Songs In the Key of an Off-Key Life
by amgomer
Summary: The AU story of Christian and Ana told through Elliot and Christian's eyes. Christian is the same man we see at the beginning of the trilogy. Ana is still a shy bookworm, but also a poet and Elliot's songwriting partner for his local band, Apathy Blues.
1. Chapter 1: Introducing Apathy Blues

_**So about a week or so ago I was just scrolling through iTunes and stumbled upon a band called **__**We Are The In Crowd**__**. It took me all of two songs to fall in love with their music and I downloaded their three CDs. My personal favorite songs are Rumor Mill, The Best Thing, and Kiss Me Again. Love them! **_

_**I do math for a living and it's our busy season in the insurance world, so I sit at my desk performing calculations with my iPod blasting away for 10-12 hours per day, sometimes more. For the past week I've found inspiration for this story from some of their songs. Yeah, this story might be a dud. I don't know yet, but I'm feeling my way through the start, though right now it feels right. The entire story will be told from Elliot and Christian's perspective. Let me know what you think.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 – Apathy Blues<strong>

My parents always believed that a well-rounded education should include music. My brother plays the piano, my sister the cello, and I play the guitar. Out of the three of us, I'm the only one to play music professionally. Okay, well, semi-professionally. I haven't quit my day job as owner of Grey Construction, nor do I believe I ever will be able to do so with my earnings from playing in my band – Apathy Blues.

I formed the band in high school, then some of the members dropped out along the way and I picked up a few here and there. I'm pushing thirty, so if fame hasn't happened by now, well, it's not happening. We play for fun and charity, not money. We're realists, who play a mix of covers and original songs and yes, we actually have a local following. The band consists of me, Elliot Grey, on guitar and lead vocals; my girlfriend's brother, Ethan Kavanagh, on base and vocals; Trevor Ryan, one of my brother's security people on drums; Tara Hart on keyboard and lead female vocals; and Ed Hart, Tara's husband on guitar.

Luck, or should I say fate, has been on my side the past two years. You see I needed a songwriting partner and oddly enough, I found her on a website for writers, well poets. While I'm not into poetry, the reality is I knew writing poetry is similar to writing a song, so I went searching the web for someone whose lyrics would go with the original melodies that constantly played in my head. I'm not a deep person, so if I didn't find a lyricist all of my songs would have been about women, sex, and knowing me, probably food. When it came to song writing, shy, withdrawn, Anastasia Steele was the Ying to my Yang, the spaghetti to my meatball, and the peanut butter to my chocolate. This quiet, petite co-ed from WSU wrote poetry that fit with my tunes and then some. Her poems ran the spectrum of themes such as self-identity, love, hope, hate, fear, and darkness. Oddly it came out of one of the shyest, most reserved people I'd ever met in my life. She's so fucking sweet, yet when she lets the darkness out on paper it's alarming. I asked her about it once and she claimed to read a lot. I didn't buy it. Well not totally anyway. There's more to the painfully shy twenty-one year old than meets the eye.

Her roommate, coincidentally my now girlfriend Kate Kavanagh, has known her for almost four years and the girl hasn't been on a date. I met Kate when she came to Seattle to visit her father and Ana had her bring down hand-written sheet music and lyrics for a few new songs. It was love and lust at first site. What can I say about Kate? She's blonde, beautiful, smart, and snarky. The perfect woman for me, so naturally my anal retentive brother hates her or as he would say – loathes her. He needs to get the stick out of his ass and get laid – man, woman, I don't give a fuck. He just needs to fuck the cobwebs out of his dick and relax for once.

I head to Portland every weekend to spend time with Kate and write with Ana. It's a juggling act between my girlfriend and her best friend, who doubles as my songwriting partner. Luckily Ethan has a major case of the hard-on for Ana, though he hasn't acted on it yet. Ana as always is completely oblivious. How else can I describe Ana Steele other than painfully shy? Well, she's a beautiful, petite brunette with the biggest, bluest eyes I've ever seen. She's absolutely stunning, yet is utterly clueless to her looks. Men fawn all over her constantly, yet she doesn't notice. Her time is spent studying, reading, cooking, writing music and poems, working part-time at Clayton's Hardware Store, and then reading some more. If she's in her bedroom, her headphones are on constantly, which works because Kate and I can get a bit wild and loud when it comes to the loving department.

When we first began writing music together, we would Skype. It took over a year for her to agree to meet me in person, and then another three months before she would sing the songs we wrote with me in front of Kate. We are her only audience. Vocally she has a smooth, edgy, sound with quite a range, but also exudes her innate sweetness. Hell, she can do raspy when necessary too. Spend an hour with her and you too will have a cavity.

I know Ed and Tara are moving to Europe in a few weeks because he was transferred with the company he works for, so we'll need a vocalist and another guitarist. The guitarist won't be too difficult to replace. There are plenty of good ones around Seattle. A female vocalist who can harmonize with me and play keyboards, well, that's another story. My preference is to get Ana to do it, but Kate said that will never happen. Ana, who spends all of her free time either reading or writing, freezes when she has to make a presentation before her class. There's no way she can or would be willing to front a rock band, even if we are just local hacks. That frustrates me to no end because we sound really good together. Honestly, I really shouldn't complain as we've managed to sell a few songs to some Indy artists and Ana earned enough to pay a full year's tuition and expenses from it. Me? Well, I sunk my share into Grey Construction, as usual. I love building things almost as much as I love music.

Apathy Blues has gained some prominence as a local cover band over the years, but we gained a full head of steam when we began performing our original works. We even won a battle of the local bands to be the opening act in Seattle for _Pink's_ upcoming charity tour stop benefiting autism research. It takes place in a week at _The Showbox_. We were excited until we noticed the performance date, which was right when Ed and Tara were supposed to be in London to house hunt, so the band desperately needed not only a female vocalist, but one who either knew our material or could learn it quickly. The only answer was Ana. She helped write and arrange the songs, she plays keyboard, and vocally we just jive. And so Kate and I went into planning mode…

After hours of planning and playing in bed, we decided to blindside Ana with it by inviting her to the performance, and then play the emergency substitution card. It's a dick move – I know, but if we asked her now, she'd say no and then smartly avoid the performance in Seattle so I couldn't screw her over and drag her on stage. She knows me well enough that I'd pull that dick move. Sometimes she's too insightful when it comes to me and in general, can read me like a book. This is why I've avoided her this week, because one look at my face and she'd know. She just would.

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><p>Kate came down from Portland a few days ago as the band prepared for today's event. Ana agreed to drive down today and stay at my place after the show. I know I never would have pulled this off without Kate, as she picked the clothes Ana would perform in and was ready to twist her arm if necessary to get her to help out. Fate can be a wonderful thing, but if you put your fate in the hands or gearbox of a forty-year old VW Beetle named Wanda, well, you're a stupid asshole. I, Elliot Grey, am a stupid asshole. Wanda decided after forty years that she's lay break an axle when Ana hit the sewer drain on her way to Seattle. Have I mentioned Ana is one of the worst drivers ever? She's lucky Wanda didn't do her impression of a turtle and end up wheels up as she hit the drain going forty-five miles per hour, or as my brother would say – recklessly speeding in a commercial zone. The thought of Ana's beloved Wanda being able to speed always makes me chuckle. The car is fucking older than I am by a decade. It should have been put in the compactor ages ago.<p>

Can you say we're fucked? I can, but not in the good way. Ethan had one of his friends ready for the missing guitarist, but without a female vocalist we're just screwed. Frankly, if Kate had a smidgen of musical talent I'd use her, but think of the movie Dogma when God spoke and head's exploded and it will give you some idea of her singing voice. Yeah, it's that bad. It's fucking embarrassing, but I love her anyway. She makes up for it with her amorous adventures. She's creative where it really cun… counts – Freudian slip, sorry about that.

My only choice is to call my businessman brother, who I know is in Salem Oregon on business, which was his excuse not to come to our biggest performance to date. Can you say: he can be an asshole? I also know he flew down in his chopper, Charlie Tango, so my only choice is to try to convince him to make a hop-skip-and-a-jump from Salem to Portland to pick up Ana and then Seattle. Show time is in about four hours, if he left Salem in the next hour by chopper, he could get Ana here forty minutes or so before show time. That would leave me the perfect amount of time to blind-side her.

I finally give in and pull out my cell phone and dial Christian. Hopefully having a billionaire brother will come in handy – especially one that has his own chopper. When he answers, I immediately explain the situation – the concert, intending to blind-side Ana into performing, and the timeframe.

"I don't have time for this Elliot," Christian barks. "I just finished closing the deal here in Salem and right now all I want is a nice dinner and quiet. The last thing I want to do is shuttle Kate's probably equally obnoxious room mate to Seattle for you to pull the rug out from under her feet."

"Yeah, but you promised you'd see the show and you ended up in Salem," I counter. "It's our biggest venue yet and frankly, just writing a check to the charity isn't enough. You need to use your name to spread the word about autism treatment."

"I'd rather write another check."

"Fuck you Christian!" I snap. "It's not like I generally ask you for anything. Hell, I built and designed Grey House and brought it in under budget. You owe me this bro. The band will look like idiots if we cancel at the last minute and indirectly that will reflect on you as we share the same surname and are known as brothers." I'm an asshole playing that card. We might not be genetically related, but he's my brother in every way, shape and form – we both can deal the asshole card as a given situation requires. Come to think of it, I'm an asshole a lot lately, but I know I've got him now.

"Fine. Have this Ana person meet me at the helipad at the downtown airport in Portland in an hour. Send Taylor her information so we can run a background check. Anyone who has lived with Kate has got to be just like her or fucking insane. If any red flags come up on the check I'm leaving her in Portland," he growls before hanging up on me.

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><p>"Taylor!" I yell into my phone after dialing. "We're heading to the heliport in five minutes to pick up Kate Kavanagh's roommate and fly her to Seattle. We need to be in Seattle at <em>The Showbox<em> by six thirty tonight as Elliot plans on throwing her on stage as a lead vocalist beginning at seven."

"Are you talking about Anastasia Steele, your brother's song writing partner?" he asks me. I agree. "We've run the background check on her. She's a sweet kid and a real bookworm. I can't see her getting on stage and performing with the band. From what I've heard from Ryan, she's ridiculously shy to the point where he hasn't even heard her sing. Only your brother and Ms. Kavanagh have. I can't see this mousy little co-ed fronting a band."

"So what you're saying this is another of Elliot's delusional ideas?" I ask bitterly.

"Most likely Sir."

We meet in the lobby and head to the heliport. I love flying and today would be no different. I just hoped that Miss Steele didn't yabber like a howler monkey, as her friend Kate occasionally did, and my sister Mia did regularly. It always amazes me how I get mildly irritated when Mia does it, but when Kate does it all I want to do is reach out my hand and gag her – preferably covering her nose as well. I honestly don't understand why I feel so strongly against Kate Kavanagh because Elliot clearly loves the woman, yet I absolutely loathe her.

Forty-five minutes later, I touch Charlie Tango down in Portland. We glance around looking for Miss Steele. All I know is she's a brunette. The only brunette I see is a teenager sitting on the ground with her legs crossed scribbling in a notebook. She looks to be in her mid-teens, though it's hard to tell from this distance as she's wearing large, dark sunglasses, jeans, a Seattle Sounders jersey with matching beanie and scarf, and finally a pair of battered chucks. It's seventy degrees out, why would anyone wear a scarf unless it's to hide hickeys?

"I think that's her Sir," Taylor informs me as he points toward the teen.

He exits the helicopter and heads over to the girl and introduces himself. She blushes when she shakes his hand. It's amusing watching her struggle with her over-sized Sounders backpack as she heads toward Charlie Tango, refusing to allow Taylor to carry her bag. If she's like Kate, well, even though she's a feminist, she'd have Taylor carry her belongings. Kate's used to servants. So what's the deal with Miss Steele?

The woman is tiny – five one or two tops and can't weight more than one hundred pounds. Hell, her backpack probably weighs more than she does. I know from Elliot she's twenty-one and writes music with him but that's about it. Apparently she's the lyricist and he's the melody. The closer they get to Charlie Tango, the more nervous she appears. Her hands are trembling. Perhaps she held on to her backpack in case she decided flying wasn't for her and she made a run for it. That would screw Elliot over and I find that thought oddly amusing with a major hint of Karma.

Taylor opens the front door for her. Oddly she refuses with her soft voice barely a whisper as she asks to sit in the back. "Oh forgive me. Hello Mr. Grey Sir. I appreciate the ride to Seattle. I apologize for the inconvenience." She reaches across the seat and shakes my hand. For a little thing, she has a firm handshake and soft skin. From what I can see of her face, she's pretty even though she's not wearing any make up. I almost wish she would take off the sunglasses and remove the cap so her hair cascades down her back so I can see what she really looks like. Outwardly she appears the complete opposite of Kate, but time will tell. She could be playing the sweet card to help get into my favor. It happens all the time, but I'm not stupid.

I have Taylor strap her into the back seat and secure her backpack. Even though she has a set of headphones on and hears my communication with the controllers, she's quiet. I venture a glance back at her and her hands are white as she grips the armrests as tightly as possible.

"I assure you Miss Steele, you are quite safe in here," I try to reassure her.

"Sorry," she barely whispers but continues to stare down at her hands. Miss Steele comes off as submissive. Perhaps that is how her friendship with Kate Kavanagh works – Kate is the dominant in the friendship and Miss Steele is the submissive. It's seems like a logical conclusion with the little I know so far. I have to admit, I never thought about the dominant-submissive relationship in anything but a sexual way before. I find myself intrigued by the thought and now can't wait to observe the two of them together.

She doesn't utter another word until we touch down at Boeing Field. She merely thanks me, grabs her backpack and heads toward the terminal.

"Miss Steele, can I offer you a ride to the venue? We are heading to the same place after all," I inform her.

She tilts her head and looks at me. I wish I could see her eyes so I had some clue as to what was going through her mind at that moment. "I wouldn't want to impose any further Sir, as I'm certain I've reached my limit for the day."

All I can do is cross my arms and glare at her. "Follow us please," I order as Taylor and I head toward the waiting SUV. Amazingly she follows without another word said until she sits in the backseat with me. Even then, all she said was thank you. She's profoundly shy and socially awkward. I have no idea how Elliot thinks she can front his band. I've seen them perform and this isn't, as Elliot would say, a rocker chick. This is going to be a disaster and I'll have a front row seat when she freezes up on stage, if they manage to get her there at all. I almost feel bad for my brother – almost.

As I scroll through emails on my phone, Miss Steele pulls out a paperback and begins to read. Who reads print books anymore? I mean, she's twenty-one. Don't all twenty-one year olds have tablets now? At least she's reading a good book – _Stephen King's Dark Tower - The Drawing of the Three._ It was my favorite in the series. I should be happy that she's not yabbering away, but rather it's unnerving to be in the back of the SUV with someone so overwhelmingly shy.

Clearly Miss Steele is familiar with Seattle. When we are a few blocks from the venue, she packs up her book and sunglasses, but calmly sits looking out the window. As the car pulls to a stop before the venue and Taylor opens her door, she turns to me, shakes my hand, and thanks me for the ride. Her large, bright blue eyes take my breath away. She's stunning. All I could think as I watched her pert little ass get out of the SUV was: I think I've found my new submissive. The mere thought of Miss Steele in the playroom made my jeans that much tighter until I remember that her best friend is soon to be reporter Kate Kavanagh and my fantasy is over before it begins.


	2. Chapter 2: Outside the Comfort Zone

_**Author's Note**__**: Okay people. I'm going to ask a favor before you actually read this chapter and it will involve you using your imaginations a bit. I'm trying to set the mood here so everyone has his or her own imaginative performance for this chapter in the form of musical foreplay. I know, I know, I'm a pushy, demanding bitch, but genetics are what they are and I lacked nurture growing up.**_

_**-Go to YouTube**_

_**-Search "We are the In Crowd Rumor Mill" and play the original video and listen to the song. Now, in place of the lead female singer, **__**imagine**__** your own idealized Anastasia in terms of looks, and in place of the male singer, **__**imagine**__** your idealized Elliot. Now play it again in your head with your idealized people. Hopefully you will smile like I do when I do this with my idealized versions of the characters.**_

_**-The other search is "We are the in crowd kiss me again" and do the same with your Anastasia and your idealized Ethan since it's a different male singer and the song/video is the inspiration for part of my story.**_

_**Or if you don't want to search youtube, go to "pinterest / xwingana / off-key-life" to watch**_

_**Full Disclosure**__**: I'm not a teenager. Heck, even my kids are in their 20's. I just like good music and find inspiration from it. Okay, plus I have the emotional maturity of a nine year old, but heck, I have to play my strength, right?**_

_**Let me know what you thought of the band in PMs or reviews, whichever you are most comfortable doing. You can even leave comments on my pinterest board for this story. Let me know what songs inspire your creativity! I'm always looking for good music.**_

_**Thanks for reading! Please humor this old broad! And yes, it's a short chapter because it was the right place to end it. Sorry about that.**_

_**Ana - forever the day dreamer**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Outside the Comfort Zone<strong>

As I get out of the car, Taylor and I exchange a glance and a smirk. We've spent enough time together over the last four years that sometimes I swear we don't even need words to communicate, which works for me because I loathe long-winded people. "I think we should follow Miss Steele as the better show will be watching Elliot attempt to get her on stage."

"Agreed," Taylor replies with a smirk. "If I were a betting man, I'd wager he'll get her on stage, she'll freeze, and then run off stage without singing a note. Ryan has barely heard her speak, much less sing and they've spent a significant amount of time together during practices both in Portland and here."

"Miss Steele will never take the stage," I counter. "She might be brave enough do wear a massive amount of Seattle Sounders gear in the heart of Portland Timbers country, but Elliot will fail to get her on stage."

"Ana!" we hear Elliot call out to her as she walks about fifteen feet in front of us. Looking around we see Elliot rush over to her and pull her into a tight embrace before setting her back down. He takes her backpack from her before greeting Taylor and I. "Thanks for getting her here bro."

We follow Elliot as he leads Ana into his band's dressing room, where we find Kate, her brother Ethan, Ryan, and the new guitarist. You can feel the subtle anxiety slowly building in the room.

"Where are Tara and Ed?" Ana whispers with dread in her soft, melodic voice.

She's a smart cookie. She's pretty much figured out what's going on. There's no missing the panic on her pretty face. Her posture has gone from submissive to I'd say defiant, but it's more like she's mentally preparing herself for Elliot's ambush.

"In London," he replies watching her closely. "They won't be back until the middle of next week."

She tilts her head slightly, while staring at him with a blank expression on her pretty face. Oddly, I can see Elliot's nerves getting the better of him when Miss Steele crosses her arms like an angry Sunday school teacher and the blank look is replaced by a not so subtle glare. No words pass between them, just a staring contest. Finally, Miss Steele whispers a soft but firm, _no_, before turning and heading toward the door.

"Oh come on Ana," Elliot pleads as he runs his fingers through his wavy blonde hair. "You're the only one that knows the songs and the arrangements. It has to be you. It's either that or the biggest show of our career doesn't happen. Don't let your shyness and fear stop you. I mean, come on, you wore that outfit as you traipsed around Portland and you were lucky you didn't get your ass kicked all the way here. That took major balls to do."

We watch as she turns to look at him. "When did you know about London?"

Taylor and I smirk as Elliot shifts nervously on the balls of his feet. Finally he confesses, "I knew last week."

"Was it good for you?" she asked softly.

Now he has the blank look on his face. "I don't follow."

"Screwing yourself. Was it good for you?" she asks. Taylor and I can't help but chuckle, which earns us a glare from Miss Steele. "You two were in on this, weren't you?" she asked us. There was no missing the disappointment in her eyes.

"They found out less than an hour before they fetched you in Portland. I had to practically beg my brother to help me," Elliot stammers in an effort to shift the blame back to where it belongs – with him.

"You can do this Ana," Kate chimes in as she hands her a glass of cranberry juice and leads her to the nearest couch. "I know you can and deep down I know you wanted to do this at one point in your life."

"A person can't be six years old forever Kate," Ana sighs sadly. "Life changes your priorities over time. This isn't something I'm capable of doing nor do I want to do it."

"Your dad's here. He can't wait to hear you sing on stage," Kate counters. "You know he loves it when you sing."

"My dad is here? He knew too?" she softly stammers. Her eyes darken before tearing up. There is no missing the disappointment with her best friends and father that's etched on her young face. Her whole body is shaking uncontrollably now. "I can't do this. I just can't."

Kate sits at her side. "You can and you will. If you don't you are letting the band down. Now chug that glass of liquid courage so we can get you into your outfit for on stage."

Miss Steele looks at the glass in her hand and sets it on the coffee table. "You know I don't drink Kate. So it's okay for you all to let me down and pull this stunt with me, but it's not acceptable for me to let you guys down? It feels like a double standard and all around, I'm screwed. They had a week to find someone and get her ready. Did they even try?" Frankly, I'm shocked that there isn't anger in Miss Steele's voice, just disappointment.

We watch as Elliot squats before her and takes her trembling hand in his. "You can do this. I know you can. It's six songs. That's it. I get that your terrified, but honestly, we really need you. All you have to do is shake off some of that shyness, step outside your comfort zone, and do your best impression out there of Tara. A couple of shots of tequila will help with that shyness. Trust me."

Surprisingly, she glances over at Ethan Kavanagh looking for confirmation. He gives her his best reassuring smile and a nod. Oddly, I haven't felt anything toward Ethan Kavanagh over the past year that I've known him. Hell, I've been apathetic to his existence. I'd met him a few times before, but I didn't loathe him like I do his sister, but suddenly, I don't particularly like him or is it the fact that Miss Steele looked at him for reassurance?

"If I agree to attempt this, and that's a big if, what would I have to wear?" she stammers with growing anxiety. We watch as Kate pulled out two hangers from the nearby closet. The first contains a small, black leather vest and a tiny pair of black shorts. The second contains black lacy undergarments including a push up bra and fishnet stockings. Finally, Elliot hands Ana a box containing four-inch heel, black, leather and lace, thigh-high boots.

"Is this hooker gear or did you raid your closet?" Miss Steele finally snaps at Kate. It's the first time she did more than whisper or talk softly in my presence. I laugh loudly. Beneath the shy exterior Miss Steele has spunk after all. Though the way she's currently glaring at me, it's probably better that I at least try to look contrite, but it's difficult when I try to imagine her wearing that outfit. "I will not dress like a prostitute. It's not happening. Oh and by the way, you know I can barely walk on heels, let alone heels that size. What were you thinking?"

"It's similar to the outfits Tara wore on stage but in your size," Elliot countered. "Do you think she looked like a hooker?" Miss Steele merely shrugs at him in response, but there's no missing the blush on her cheeks. "I need you to trust me on this Ana. You'll look just as hot as Tara did, if not hotter. I know in my soul you can do this and be spectacular. If I wasn't positive, I wouldn't have asked." She glares at him with her arms crossed, but I can tell it's half-hearted. "Okay," Elliot adds, "I wouldn't have manipulated the situation."

Surprisingly, we watch as she walks over to the small bar in the corner, pours herself a double shot of tequila and downs it in one quick chug. When she stops choking and coughing, she takes the outfit from Kate and stomps into the en-suite bathroom muttering under her breath about hating them. After a minute, Kate joins her and I can't help but glance at my watch – twenty minutes to show time. Elliot proceeded to kick Taylor and I out toward our seats.

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><p>Thankfully I'd purchased tickets to the fundraising concert when Elliot's band found out they were the opening act. I bought the best row in the house. My dozen tickets went to my parents, Mia, Ros and Gwen, Kate, my PA Andrea and her date, Flynn and his wife, and finally Taylor and I took the last two seats. When I first purchased the tickets I had no intention of really going because spending that much time seated next to Kate just grated on my nerves. She has from the day I met her. She's your typical reporter – abrasive when she's after a story, she asks too many questions, and though she came from an excellent family, I felt Elliot could do better.<p>

I will admit that she is the most intelligent woman he's ever dated, so that's one positive for her. She liked to figure people out like puzzles. It's a trait we have in common, but neither of us will apply that need to know about ourselves. For a man with secrets, having someone like Kate Kavanagh around me leaves me on edge. I like my secrets to remain buried and my private life just that – private. The media is no ones friend. They aren't to be trusted and Kate is the media; hence, she's untrustworthy. If Elliot would get her to sign an NDA, I might feel a bit better, but then again, I might not. Who the fuck knows?

Finally the lights dim, the crowd quiets, and the deep blue curtain rises slowly. Elliot and his band are on stage, minus their female lead singer. Taylor and I glance at each other and shrug as we wonder if Kate is still backstage.

"_Good evening ladies and gentleman. Thank you for contributing to this fundraiser for autism research," Elliot begins. "We'd like to thank our corporate partners who helped make this show a reality – Microsoft Corporation and Seattle Children's Hospital. We are Apathy Blues and while many of you may know us locally, we have a treat for you tonight. Our lead female vocalist and her guitarist husband are in London, so substituting for her is our songwriting partner in her first-ever public performance, Miss Anastasia Steele. She's a shy little thing, so on the count of three everyone scream: Anastasia get your butt out here and sing for us!"_

Elliot's got a shit-eating grin on his face right now. _"One – Two – Three – Anastasia get your butt out here and sing for us!"_ everyone yelled.

A second later, from behind Ryan on drums, we see Anastasia Steele stumble toward the center of the stage. If I'm not mistaken, Kate gave her a hard shove out there. She almost fell because of the heels, but Ethan managed to grab her bare arm so she remained upright. This is going to be a disaster.

When Miss Steele stands before her microphone and the spotlight hits her, I'm speechless. She no longer looks like a shy, sullen, teenager, but between the sexy outfit, her now red lips, and her long dark wavy hair accenting her pushed up cleavage she's breathtakingly beautiful and looks like she's made for sin. No doubt, every red-blooded, heterosexual male in this place has to feel his pants get a bit tighter. I know mine are. All I want to do is cover her up so only I can see her. What the fuck is with feeling like this? It's alarming.

The first song begins with chimes, drums and guitar. Miss Steele looks terrified until Elliot shreds his guitar for the first time and she mechanically begins singing. Every so often she glances toward Elliot or Ethan for reassurance. By the second line of the song, she's performing as if she'd been doing this her entire life. I expected her voice to be soft and sultry, but it was pure rocker-chick. Every emotion she was feeling was poured into the song. There was no missing the words were personal to her.

Elliot was absolutely right. I never thought I'd say that, but he was. She was better than Tara. They sounded like they were made to harmonize with each other. Hell, even the other members of the band were looking at her in awe, especially Ethan and Ryan. The last strong note she hit before the final closing verse blew me away. I'm a classical music type of person, though I will listen to some rock music.

The lyrics were hers, so I force myself to listen to them closely as I watch them perform their next four songs. For the first time ever, I feel like Elliot actually has a chance at moving his dream career of being a musician forward. He always said he needed the right lyricist to compose with and he'd found her. Hell, she even played the keyboard on two songs. Their songs were about fear, loneliness, and hope. Their voices moved between anger, despair, amusement, and at times they even sounded sweet together. The shy Miss Steele was not one to underestimate. That much was now blatantly obvious.

"_For our last song, I'm going to step back from the microphone a bit and allow my good friend Ethan to step forward and have the duet honors in place of our missing Ed, who normally performs this song with his wife Tara_," Elliot comments with a smirk.

We watched as Ethan set down his guitar and approached the microphone next to Miss Steele. I hadn't heard this song as it began with Ethan on vocals, but it quickly became apparent it was a duet about secret crushes. They sang together like they'd known each other forever. His arms were around her during part of the performance and they were constantly exchanging glances. Her voice was so sweet, yet in the pit of my stomach I felt bitter. Try as I might to shake off this feeling, I failed miserably. When the final line to the song was sung, _kiss me again_, Ethan gently turned her, pulled her into his arms and kissed her passionately as the curtain came down to thunderous applause. Kate looked thrilled as she stood just off-stage.

Two hours later, the second part of the fundraiser is over. Taylor and I head backstage with Kate, my family, and a tall, thing middle age gentleman I'm assuming is Miss Steele's father to congratulate Elliot and the band. When we get there, we're surprised to find Elliot holding an ice pack on his left eye and Ethan with a fat lip.

"What happened?" Kate stammered rushing over to Elliot. "I can guess how Ethan got the fat lip because I know Ana wasn't receptive to that lip lock."

"Correct," Ethan muttered disappointedly.

"I told Ana that our next show was going to be awesome and I couldn't wait to start writing for our new CD," Elliot informed us. "She got mad at me and told me to find someone else to work with because without trust there's nothing. I told her not to be like that after I blocked her repeatedly from leaving, so she punched me in the face, told me off, and left. She didn't even change. She grabbed her stuff and bolted."

Kate picks up something from the floor that looks like a small clutch purse and rifles through it. "Oh El, so she's running around the streets of Seattle at ten o'clock at night without any money or ID. She doesn't know anyone here but you and Ryan. How long has she been gone?"

"She left five minutes after the performance ended," Elliot replied before swearing.

"You should have known better Elliot. You'd pushed my Annie far enough for one night," Ray Steele informed him with a smirk. "Once she realizes she doesn't have money or identification, she'll come back here. We just have to wait her out."

Kate introduced Ray Steele to everyone. He seemed nice enough and was clearly ex-military, short hair and all. He kept himself in good shape for someone around fifty. The sound of his cell phone ringing interrupts the introductions. "This is Ray," he answers. We watch as he listens to whomever called him. "I'll be there in the next fifteen minutes to straighten this mess out officer. Where are you located?" After a brief pause, Ray adds, "This is all a misunderstanding officer, regardless of how she's dressed and how it looked. I can assure you that my daughter is not selling her body for cash on the streets of Seattle and the gentleman with her is just a college friend who picked her up after a concert." Another pause. "Yes officer, I understand that she reeks of tequila but there's an explanation for that." Ray glares at Elliot and Kate before adding, "I'll explain when I get there."

When he hangs up, he asks us, "how far is the police station on Twelfth Avenue from here?"

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>Author's Second Note<strong>__**: So did you listen to the songs first? Can you see why I drew inspiration from them?**_**_  
><em>**


	3. Chapter 3: Zones of Steele

**Chapter 3 – Zones of Steele**

There's no missing my asshole brother's amusement at my quickly blackening eye. No doubt I deserved it – I know it, Christian knows it, hell, everyone in the band knows it. Was it worth it? _Fuck yes!_ My girl's shy, introverted best friend ventured out of her shell tonight and together we rocked the house. I knew she could do it. I just fucking knew it.

I can't help but glance over at Ethan as we invade Christian's Audi SUV with Kate, while Ray rides with my parents to the police station. I feel responsible for her predicament. Christian doesn't look too happy about it either since I pretty much drafted him to be part of the manipulation to get Ana's sexy little ass on stage. Ethan has had his eyes on Ana for four years now - _four fucking years_. Can you say he must have a major case of blue balls? Either that or he's been building up arm muscle. I mean, it was beyond shit or get off the pot time for him. So when does he take his proverbial dump? On stage at a fucking charity concert in front of over a thousand people. What a fucking moron. He's lucky she didn't punt his balls back into his end zone.

I'm glad we shot video of the concert. Hopefully the police will take that as more than enough evidence that Ana wasn't a hooker, regardless of her outfit. I know what we are going to find when we get to the police station and just the thought of it breaks my heart. Ana is saintly pure – Mother Teresa fucking pure. If they have her in a holding cell, she's going to be bawling her eyes out. She's not the type to ever set a foot out of line. Ethan's lip and my eye were well deserved. I get it. She was physically defending herself. Kate warned me not to grab her and force her to listen, but what did I do? Just what I wasn't supposed to do, so naturally she panicked. Who'd have thought little, barely over five feet tall Anastasia Steele could even reach my eye, much less leave it black … well more like purple. Not me, that's for sure.

It didn't take long to arrive at the police station. Ray Steele was a man on a mission. It took ten minutes for Sargent Mitchell to mosey his overweight, bulbous ass from wherever they kept the stash of donuts, but the man had the audacity to tell Ray he was charging Ana with prostitution and assault.

"Have you lost your mind?" my dad asked as he stepped our from behind Taylor and Ryan. "Aren't you even going to watch the concert footage from two hours ago that we brought?"

"Mr. Grey sir," the Sargent stood straight up in an attempt to intimidate us. It would be amusing if it weren't so fucking annoying. That, plus the Sargent's moobs jiggled when he moved. He's not exactly Seattle's finest, that's for sure. I mean my dad is a prestigious lawyer known all around the state. He's good friends' with the Chief of Police, the Mayor, and even the Governor. It's clear this jackass Mitchell is absolutely clueless. "Miss Steele assaulted her john inside a vehicle. The assault was witnessed by no less than four officers."

All I could think is _what the fuck!_ "Who's the alleged john?" I ask.

"His name is Jose Rodriguez. He's sitting in the cell next to her for soliciting a prostitute and lewd behavior," Mitchell replies.

I smile as Kate gets in Mitchell's face after giving Ray a small push aside. "Listen Mitchell, my father owns Kavanagh Media. I promise you that unless you watch the concert recording and do the right thing, which is let her go, your face is going to be plastered all over the media. Frankly, you'll make one of the best Internet memes ever. As to Jose Rodriguez, well he's a friend of ours from WSU who's had a thing for Ana for four years. He probably got all touchy-feely and she defended herself. Ana and I roomed together in college the entire time and she never went on a date. I mean, not ever."

That's my Kate. She'll always defend her friend. It's Taylor however that pulls out his phone and shows the fucking moron Sargent pictures he shot at the concert. Immediately we can see the Sargent's confidence grow shaky. It helped that immediately afterward, the Chief of Police, Mark Derenson, shows up and greets all of us by our first names and even kisses my mother's cheek.

Mark allows the Sargent and the officers who witnessed Ana's encounter with Jose in the car to explain what they saw. I can almost see it from their point of view – almost. First, if Ana were a hooker, she's the best-looking hooker I've ever seen. Second, Jose Rodriguez is an attractive guy. He doesn't need to pay for women by the hour. Now Mitchell, yeah, that fucker looks like the only way he can get some ass is with _Mastercard_ or _Visa_. Jose's biggest issue is he's a card-carrying member of the Anastasia Steele fan club and like Ethan, he was firmly placed in the friend zone nearly four years ago. Hell, no man made it past the friend zone with Ana. She had three zones: _the leave me alone_ zone; the _friend_ zone; and the _if you don't leave me alone I'll kick you in the nads_ zone. To get to zone three, you had to make it into the friend zone. Not many did. I could think of two who were about to graduate to zone three if they weren't careful because it wouldn't involve a gentle tug on the tassel of their caps, but a tug or kick in a more organic tassel.

Finally, Derenson addresses the officers with his cell phone in hand. "Miss Steele was part of the opening act at the fundraiser I attended tonight. Her band went off stage at around eight fifteen," he explains to them before turning to me. "Elliot, what time did she leave the venue?"

"About ten minutes after that when I pissed her off. She must have called Jose for a ride because her car broke down in Portland and my brother Christian flew her to the show in his helicopter. Jose's in Seattle helping out part-time at a friends gallery on weekends."

"And what time was she arrested Sargent?" he asks.

"Eight-forty five."

"Did you confiscate her belongings? If so, did you check her cell phone to see if she called anyone possibly for a ride?" Derenson offered him the proverbial rope to continue hanging himself.

"She called Rodriguez sir."

"And what did Miss Steele and Mr. Rodriguez tell you about their encounter?"

When the Sargent replies that Ana mentioned the show, her clothes being part of the act and Rodriguez came to give her a ride because she called him. The Sargent admits that he didn't believe her. At this point, we were all fucking pissed at this asshole. He went on to explain that when he questioned Miss Steele with only a female officer present that she admitted that Jose had made a pass at her and she had to manhandle him a bit in her attempt to get him to stop. By the time the officers pulled them both from the vehicle, she'd been successful and Jose had been apologizing profusely while gripping his privates. Good for Ana. _Attention K-Mart shoppers: Jose Rodriguez graduated to zone three. Ice packs are now the blue light special._

"Release them immediately," Derenson ordered. "You have no justification for holding them. They answered all of your questions honestly yet you refused to even attempt to validate their account."

Mitchell began to fidget under the Chief's penetrating glare, but nodded to one of the other officers, who promptly brought Jose Rodriguez out from the holding cell down the long hallway. Ray and Kate glare at him, but at least he has the sense to look embarrassed by his behavior.

"Where's Ana?" I ask.

"Miss Steele was in an altercation with another prisoner. She was taken to Swedish Medical Center for stitches about forty-five minutes ago," Mitchell muttered.

"Explain," Derenson bellowed at the Sargent.

"The other prisoner was a madam who was angry that Miss Steele was working her turf, which she repeatedly had denied. The madam was intoxicated and without provocation attacked her, slashing her hand with a section of glass that she managed to get into the cell. Officers Samson and Reyes escorted Miss Steele to the hospital in handcuffs."

"Congratulations Sargent, your first week on the job for the SPD and you've probably cost the city a few million dollars in the lawsuit that's coming," Derenson muttered bitterly. "I suggest you contact Reyes and Samson and make sure they remove the cuffs from Miss Steele and apologize profusely. I will personally escort Mr. Steele and the Grey family to the hospital. Make sure Mr. Rodriguez gets his car from impound." He pauses and turns to Jose. "Mr. Rodriguez, I need you to remain here until I can verify that Miss Steele doesn't want to press assault charges against you."

Jose pales. I know she won't press charges. Ray ordered Jose to get out of his sight and they'd be talking with his father present about what happened with Ana.

Asshole Mitchell releases Ana's backpack to Ray and we head off to Swedish Medical Center's emergency room. I'd never seen Ray angry before. It's terrifying. I know Kate had warned both Ethan and Jose that once you're in the friend zone, prepare to live there forever. Neither took her advice and both were paying for it tonight.

The two officers who escorted Ana to the hospital apologized profusely, informing us that they attempted to tell Mitchell that she wasn't prostitute but he wouldn't hear of it. Apparently, Mitchell was a major asshole who in his delusional mind was always right. I could tell by the look on my dad's face that Mitchell's career was in all likelihood over; either that or he'd be waddling down the sidewalk issuing parking citations as a career.

When we finally are allowed into Ana's treatment room, we find her sitting on a chair wrapped in the blanket. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, her left hand is bandaged, and there are bruises up and down her arms that look like handprints. When she gazed up at us, we all gasped at the small bruise beginning to form on her upper cheek. I've known her for a year. During that time she always appeared fragile, yet I knew she wasn't. Her last name fit because is many ways she was filled with steely determination. Now she just looked broken. It was heartbreaking to see and all my fault.

Mechanically I handed her the knapsack I'd been holding. All she did was nod, take it, head into the en-suite bathroom and locked the door behind her. Five minutes later she emerged in the same clothes she wore on the flight down and without a stitch of make up on her face. She shoved the outfit she had just removed into my hands and looked at me with unbridled disappointment. I felt my heart sink.

She asked the officers if she was free to leave. They nodded and asked her if she wanted to press assault charges against Jose. She declined quietly stating he learned his lesson. Even though she was unjustly treated by the police, she still thanked them. That's Ana for you. Ray explained he had to head back to Montesano because he had to work early tomorrow morning at a charity building project. He wanted Ana to go back with him. He even offered to drive her back to Portland tomorrow evening. She declined taking her backpack from the chair and her purse from Kate before heading for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Kate chased after her. "You don't have a car here. Come stay with me at Elliot's. We'll take you home tomorrow."

"I booked a hotel for tonight and tomorrow night here in Seattle. I have a nine a.m. appointment on Monday to complete my new hire paperwork at a local publishing house. After that I'll find my own way to Clayton's for my shift."

"Where are you staying Annie?" Ray asks as he hugs here tightly and she sighs sadly.

I can tell she's still really upset with Kate and I because she glances our way, then returns her gaze to Ray and shakes her head negatively. With that, she hugs him again, thanks us for getting her out jail, thanks Christian and Taylor for bringing her to Seattle, and walks out of the hospital. Christian immediately sends Taylor after her, offering to drive her to the hotel. When Taylor returns a few minutes later informing us that she politely declined, my parents glare at me and rightly so. This mess has my name written all over it.

My parents spend the next ten minutes scolding me over my actions this evening. Do I feel bad? Yes. Do I regret it? In some ways, sure I do. I didn't want Ana arrested or hurt. I just wanted to help her out of her shell. Kate tried to explain it to my parents and they were a bit more understanding, but still not thrilled. Christian, on the other hand, was royally pissed that I pulled him into this mess. I reminded him that he could have said no. I was lucky Taylor was there or Christian would have popped me one.

* * *

><p>Yesterday evening I allowed myself to be sucked into one of Elliot's stupid schemes. If I had told him no when he called me to fly Anastasia Steele to Seattle, nothing would have happened to her. You can't help but want to protect her, though it became readily apparent she could handle herself when the situation called for her to do so. She's a quiet, tiny, shy wisp of a woman. She's also drop dead gorgeous and unaware how the people truly perceive her. All I know is I can't get her out of my mind since she removed her sunglasses and turned to thank me in the back of the Audi. The image of her large, kind blue eyes will forever be burned into my soul.<p>

After our trip to the police station, followed by the hospital, I had Taylor reach out to one of our CPOs to keep an eye on her and make certain she was safe. Luckily Reynolds lived in the Pike Market District so he wasn't that far away. Taylor had filled him in on the events of the night before. Apparently Reynolds had seen Miss Steele in the past when he attended one of Elliot's shows. She was there in the audience with Kate, but that was a few months ago. At the time they weren't introduced, but it made it easier for him to find her last night as she walked the streets of Seattle toward her hotel.

According to Reynolds, she checked into the Comfort Inn not far from the Space Needle and remained in her room all night. This morning she left her room with her purse and a book, grabbed a cup of tea from the hotel's complementary breakfast but no food, purchased a small throw from a nearby drug store, and walked to the green area surrounding the Space Needle. There she laid out the throw, dropped her purse, and sat down leaning against a nearby tree and began reading. That was at nine this morning, yet now it was three in the afternoon and according to Reynolds she was just peacefully reading all day. He even sent us pictures of her throughout the day. She was in simple dark grey leggings, a sequined navy mini-dress, a long dark grey cardigan, and her battered chucks. Once again there wasn't an ounce of make up on her face, leaving her small bruise from last night evident, but partially obscured by her large sunglasses. In each and every picture she looked calm and at peace. After last night, I was grateful for that. As she left the hospital she looked disheartened, disappointed and overwhelmed.

When she finally packed up her blanket and belongings, it was four p.m. and she made a quick stop at the Space Needle gift shop, purchasing a small game that looked like a mini-snow globe but Reynolds explained it was a ring toss game. She continued walking around the neighborhood occasionally playing with her new toy before finally stopping at five p.m. and purchasing food. Finally! It drove me crazy that someone who was clearly a few pounds underweight skipped breakfast and lunch. Not that what she bought was much better – a yogurt parfait with fruit and granola, but at least it was something. She then stopped at a used bookstore and purchased a few paperbacks from the fiction section before beginning the long walk back to her hotel for the evening.

According to Reynolds, her phone rang twice during the day. Both calls were from her father checking up on her. Frankly, I'm surprised Kate and Elliot didn't call begging forgiveness for their misdeeds. It made me like Kate less, but oddly didn't really impact my opinion of Elliot. Perhaps they knew to give her space when she's upset.

This was a typical Sunday evening for me. Work all day before meeting with Taylor and Gail to run through their schedules for the week. Gail and I plotted out meals, while Taylor and I discussed security, appointments, and any other issues that might arise. We were discussing the week's menu when we received a call from Reynolds, but it wasn't from his cell phone. He's been arrested for stalking Miss Steele, who called the police because he'd been following her all day.

Taylor and I looked at each other knowingly. Reynolds was better than most CPO's about blending in and he was wearing casual clothing. It felt good that Miss Steele was hyperaware of everything around her, but at the same time I couldn't help but wonder what happened to her to make her that way. After I sent Welch and my lawyer to handle the situation at the police station, I looked at her background check with Taylor and Gail. There wasn't anything that stood out to explain it, but it was Gail who spoke first.

"If I may, sir," she began. I nodded and she continued. "You've said she's close to her step-father, Ray Steele." Again I nod. "Any woman looking at this background check can see the red flags around a marriage that lasted mere months and took place right after her divorce from Mr. Steele. If I were to guess, I would look into that time period. Her mother was married to Mr. Steele for a decade and a half after she was widowed, and her current husband for over four years, but husband number three for just a few months. Sometimes the grass isn't always greener sir."

The six months immediately proceeding her mother's divorce from Ray Steele was where we had Welch digging further on Miss Anastasia Rose Steele. I couldn't wait to find out more. I'm unable to explain why I find her utterly captivating, but I do. In the Audi I wanted her as my submissive. Her friendship with Kate Kavanagh pretty much prevented that, along with the fact that though she was quiet and shy, she wasn't submissive. I wish there was a pill I could take to forget about her; yet again, I don't want to forget her – she's intelligent, beautiful, and has a smart mouth. When she asked Elliot if it was good for him, he didn't understand her query. Taylor and I busted out laughing when she added _'screwing yourself'_. Never in a million years did I expect that from her. That was the moment I noticed her plump, pink, pouty lips. It was hard not to just stare at them and have indecent thoughts about what she could do with them.

Taylor pulls me out of my thoughts when he reminds me that tomorrow I have the interview with Kate for the college newspaper. If I'd known when I reluctantly agreed to it months ago, that she'd be dating my brother and I'd grow to dislike her intensely, I never would have agreed to the interview. The thought of being trapped in my office with Kate Kavanagh for an hour tomorrow annoyed me to all hell. The woman was like nails on a blackboard. I decided right before she arrived at two pm, that I'd have a beer or three just to make her more tolerable.

* * *

><p>The morning flew by quickly at GEH, as it's Monday, so Ros and I spend the better portion of the morning and our lunch hour reviewing files on potential purchases and takeovers. This is part of our start of the week routine. Ros was my number two since the founding of GEH. She was me with a vagina and a sense of humor. She even had the red hair, though mine looked reddish-brown depending on how the light was hitting it, while hers was Ron Weasley red, as she called it. Damned if I understand that reference, but the last thing I want is Ros going off on a rambling tangent, as she's been known to do, so I pretend I get it and chuckle.<p>

We'd contemplated diversifying GEH by adding other industries other than shipping, shipbuilding, and technology. Ros suggested pharmaceuticals, publishing, and oddly enough, media. I immediately put an end to publishing discussions. It was too unstable and the profit margin too slim to consider it. While I would love to control a media outlet, I loath the media, so in my eyes, that one was out too. It would be like swimming with piranhas after butchering my face shaving. I'll pass thank you very much.

Claude visited the office to taunt me about golfing and push me into agreeing to a game with him. I detest golf. I understand that it's the game you play to discuss business and make contacts, but still, if you can't excel at something, why do it?

Finally when Claude leaves, I down a double-shot of Glenkinchie, sit behind my desk, and wait for Kate's arrival. When the door finally opens, a mess of wavy brown hair tumbles into the office and lands on her hands and knees. The last thing I need right before Kate arrives is one of my former submissives going rogue and coming to my office. It would be the story of the century. As I angrily head toward her, I notice her shoes before I can see her face – battered converse. Instantly I relax. When I gently take her by the arms and help her up from the floor, her cheeks are flushed with embarrassment. When her blue eyes finally meet mine, I feel like all of the air has been sucked out of my lungs and the air around us sizzles. What the fuck?!


	4. Chapter 4: Come As You Are

**Chapter 4 – Come As You Are**

"Are you all right Miss Steele?" Andrea asks as she runs through the open door after having seen her tumble. This breaks the connection I felt with Anastasia, as she turns to respond.

Once again her cheeks are crimson as she removes her backpack and sets it on the ground. I can't help but notice she's rubbing her bandaged hand. There's no missing that it's bothering her. "I'm good, thank you."

Andrea nods and leaves, closing the door behind her. I turn my attention back to Miss Anastasia Steele. She's dressed inappropriately for this interview – other than her battered chucks, she's wearing skinny jeans, black Nirvana _Come As You Are_ t-shirt that hugs her chest, and the same sweater she wore yesterday. It might be inappropriate attire for the occasion but she looked sexy as hell. Her t-shirt was killing me. _Come as you are_ – game on Miss Steele, game on! I can't help but stare at her shirt and smirk.

"You are making me uncomfortable," Anastasia mumbles as she pulls her sweater closed to cover her t-shirt.

I chuckle causing her to blush. I can't help it. I know it's wrong, but I'm incapable of stopping myself. "Then don't wear attire that can be perceived as a double entendre Miss Steele."

Right on cue she blushes yet again, this time profusely and stammers an apology for her clothing choice and explains she was waiting for her train back to Portland when Kate called her to fill in as both she and Elliot had gotten food poisoning. She left King Street Station, took a cab to Elliot's house to pick up the list of questions and the digital recorder before rushing over here. Even though she was still disappointed in Elliot and Kate's actions this past weekend, she still put her life on hold to help out her friend. Either Miss Steele was easily manipulated or the more likely scenario, she cares deeply for her friends. I couldn't help but wonder what that felt like. I didn't do relationships or friends.

Gently I hold her arm and lead her to her place on the white leather couch before sitting across from her. I watch as she looks through her over-filled backpack searching for something. Finally she pulls out a digital recorder and sets it on the coffee table between us. After a few seconds of fumbling to get the recorder working, she pulls a lavender sheet of paper out of the side pocket of her backpack and glances at the interview questions. She pales considerably as her eyes move down the page.

"Excuse me a moment Mr. Grey," she whispers before grabbing her cell phone, dialing, and walking toward the door to my office. She stops a second later and sighs bitterly. "Is there a phone I can use? I forgot to charge my phone."

"Is everything all right Miss Steele?"

"Not really."

"You can use the phone on my desk while I discuss my afternoon schedule with Andrea," I inform her and leave my office, closing the door behind me. Standing by Andrea's desk with her, I watch Andrea's phone for the line to light up indicating that Miss Steele has dialed my office phone before I activate the line on speaker phone and hit mute on Andrea's handset. I knew the call was to Kate about the questions she provided and that caught my interest because by the look on her face, Miss Steele didn't approve of them.

"_Hello," Kate's weak voice answered._

"_Have you lost what's left of your mind Kate? How can you expect me to ask him these questions? I mean really? The first bunch are just plain boring so I know you don't really want me to ask them. I mean what college kid is going to be interested in that crap. I mean, they can probably find out the mundane crap about him on the Internet just like you did. These questions aren't like you. It's not how you are wired. That and you know this man personally. Hell, you're involved with his brother, so I know these aren't the real questions. What game are you playing at Kate? Oh and by the way, there's no way I'm asking him if he's a practicing homosexual. It's disrespectful. I mean isn't it obvious that he is? Look at his security people. Ryan is an eleven on a scale of one to ten. Taylor is pretty darn hot and any girl my age with daddy issues would snatch him up in a heartbeat. Thankfully, while I have issues, they aren't daddy related. Then there's this guy Sawyer who I met downstairs, who makes Ryan look like a dowdy six at best. Elliot's brother surrounds himself with eye candy of the male pursuasion. Of course he's gay. Hell, if you had his money, you'd do the same and make them walk around half naked all day long."_

"_Of course I would, while you would surround yourself by books, as you sat in a big cushy chair and the only thing your bar would feature are yogurt, granola, and fruit. My bar would be right out of Coyote Ugly because it's my dream do dance like a hussy on a bar in short-shorts with my half-naked security team of hotties adoring me." _

"_Tell me why we are still friends after this weekend," Ana sighs with exasperation. After a pause, she adds, "I know it's because we're both idiots who care about each other, but you and the blonde Elliot the Builder bobble head need to stop putting me in awkward situations. I really don't appreciate these adventures outside my comfort zone."_

_Kate soothes her. "Relax Ana. Sometimes outside your comfort zone is good. Trust me on this. With regard to the interview, the questions are generic. The way I work is I write them down, then reword and expand upon them based on overall tone of the interview and tailoring my approach."_

"_That's a load of crap and you know it. I can't do this."_

"_Just make the interview your own. I know you'll do fine," Kate counters. "Oh and I forgot to mention, you are writing the actual article. I have to go." With that, Miss Kavanagh hangs up the phone._

Andrea and I look at each other and smirk. She is the one who prepares all of my NDA's so she is well aware of my lifestyle and the fact that I'm definitely not gay. She's been well compensated for her discretion and guarding my privacy over the past five years. I'm going to have fun with this interview. I almost pity Miss Steele.

I wait another few minutes to re-enter my office. Miss Steele is admiring my collection of mini-Trouton paintings. It's good to see someone her age appreciate art.

"Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," she whispers to herself.

"I agree completely," announcing my return which startles her momentarily. "I find Trouton's work soothing."

"When we look at a dilapidated building we see it through our own clouded perceptions based on events that made us who we are, but through the eyes of an artist like Trouton, we can escape our own distorted view and see things with a fresh eye," she commented softly never taking her eyes off the mosaics. "I like the way this type of art makes me feel. It gives me hope."

Miss Steele, in my opinion, is more extraordinary than the paintings she's currently gazing at longingly. She's not like other women who throw themselves at me or go out of their way to flaunt their bodies to gain my attention. My attention made her uncomfortable earlier. "Shall we get this interview over with Miss Steele?"

"Sorry," she mutters with embarrassment and returns to her place on the couch.

"Where are Kate's questions?" I ask struggling to suppress yet another grin.

She shrugs before asking me her first question. "Close your eyes for me Mr. Grey." I glare at her, while she gazes at me expectantly. It's the same Sunday School Teacher gaze she gave Elliot that made him submit and fuck if I don't follow suit. When I close my eyes she continues. "Picture Van Gogh's Starry Night in your head. What are the first words that come to mind to describe the painting and what it makes you feel?"

"Ethereal, magical, and it makes me feel free. It's like an out of body experience that consumes you. All I want to do is reach up and touch the sky and everything else as he saw it," I reply before opening my eyes and gauging her reaction. Her face is alight with a serene smile.

"Have you ever experienced anything else in life that made you feel that way?"

Part of me wants to reply – _you Miss Steele_, but I know that would be out of line. Normally I wouldn't care, but in my limited dealings with her, it quickly became apparent that she wasn't like most other women. She was certainly nothing like Kate Kavanagh and definitely not submissive. I still can't quite figure out why she would be best friends with someone like Kate. I guess time will tell. "Flying."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I feel free when I'm flying my helicopter or gliding. The minute I'm in the air life's preoccupations just float away like I'm flying on the swirls in Van Gogh's painting."

"If I traveled back in time and met you as you graduated high school, what would you have told me you'd be doing in five years time?"

I laugh more out of my own embarrassment than anything else. I knew I'd have hit on her, bent her over a table and had my way with her as soon as she softly said _yes sir_. "Back then I was still trying to find my way. I was going off to Harvard to placate my parents, but even back then I knew I wanted start my own company but the details were still vague. I'd probably tell myself that even though I'd be meeting a bunch of pretentious assholes, network." This response caused her to chuckle.

"What about goals pertaining to your non-professional life back then?"

"Like anyone heading off to college, I was concerned about fitting in. As much as I taunt and tease my brother and sister, it was awkward being on my own without them around. I was always pretty much a loner, but there was something calming just knowing they were nearby."

Where the fuck did that come from? Miss Steele is asking me odd questions, yet pulling more personal information from me than I'm confortable sharing. She's like sodium pentothal for me. I need to turn this around.

"And if I were to travel back to the day you graduated high school and asked where your life would be heading when you graduated college, what would you have said?" I ask.

She giggles and it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard. She blushes before replying, "I cried for the entire week before I left for college. I didn't want to leave my dad. In my wildest dreams, I wanted to graduate and get into publishing. If you'd told me the week that I bawled my eyes out like a toddler, that my wildest dreams would come true, I would have called you a liar. My advice to myself would have been follow your dream."

"And in your personal life?"

"Like you, I tend to be a bit of a loner. I have a few close friends. I'm happy. What more can a girl want other than her own bookstore with shelves that magically restock themselves with the latest books that come out? Well, that an snicker bar cheesecake," she counters quietly.

"No boyfriends?"

"I've never found the desire for one."

"Girlfriends?" I can't help but ask.

"When I find someone to whom I am attracted, gender is irrelevant." She grins at me. "And you Mr. Grey, girlfriend? The students of WSU could probably care less, but clearly Kate is fascinated."

"None."

"Boyfriends then?"

I laugh. "What makes you think that Miss Steele?"

She blushes profusely. "Well, you surround yourself with plenty of … well … as Kate would call it – beefcake security. Oh God, I can't believe I said that. I'm so sorry Mr. Grey."

I laugh loudly this time at her discomfort. "Trust me when I say, none of them are my type Miss Steele."

"Can I go hide now?" she asks still beet red and partially covering her face with her hands. I inform her that if she doesn't continue with the interview, I will be the one interviewing her. That gets her attention, so she reluctantly continues. "Since founding Grey Enterprise Holdings, what do you consider your greatest professional achievement?"

"That's simple. It's the ability to fund research and support charities around the globe. Without the team at GEH, my second in command Ros Bailey, our directors and team members, the millions of dollars we contribute toward different things wouldn't be possible. GEH and its' staff are very active in various causes, but we tend to avoid publicizing our activities."

"Why? Couldn't your involvement bring more attention to these causes and research?"

I shift uncomfortably. "Mergers and acquisitions is a complicated, sometimes dirty game. Whether you walk on the dirt or wallow in the mud is irrelevant because people make the assumption that if you are in the industry you must be caked in the hundreds of layers of mud. This perception, whether right or wrong, can be considered a blemish by some on the charities that we at GEH support and our goal is to help the organizations, not cause them to have a proverbial black eye when nothing that was done was anything but above board."

"Do you believe in the long run you'll be able to shift the perception of wallowing in the mud?"

I sigh. "As much as I would like to control people's perceptions, I can't, so I carefully guard my privacy and control both my image and the GEH image. It's the reason at GEH we have a one-strike and your out policy with regard to drugs and any criminal activity. If we want to continue to support causes, it's the only thing I can do other than making certain that all GEH mergers and acquisitions are completed with the highest level of ethics possible."

"What do you consider your best business decision?"

"Simple – hiring my number two, Ros Bailey. She's bright, ethical, doesn't take crap from anyone, and is highly personable. She can schmooze her way through the most awkward negotiation, even while I'm going thermonuclear."

"Thermonuclear, huh?" she smiles at me.

"I have a low threshold for stupidity and ignorance, so unfortunately thermonuclear is an occasional reaction on my part." I try to appear contrite, but who knows if I'll ever be able to pull that off.

"Hopefully I'll never experience it," she teases. "What is your favorite color? Based on Grey House, you enjoy a life surrounded by everything monochrome," she laughs. Oh how I want to spank her for that smart mouth. Do I dare tell her I prefer her pale skin to be flushed pink under my palm?

"Gray"

"Ironic. I might have to call you _Red Chief_," she counters. "Favorite meal?"

"Macaroni and cheese."

"Homemade or from a box?"

"It doesn't matter," I counter.

"Blasphemy Mr. Grey, complete and utter blasphemy. Homemade or nothing," she teases. "Once Kate and I move to Seattle in a couple of weeks, I'll make macaroni and cheese for you and send it to Grey House with Elliot."

"It will never get to me. Elliot will eat it in the car," I counter, but she makes me smile. She offered to cook for me.

"Favorite flavor of ice cream?"

"Easy - _Baskin Robins Chocolate Chip._ And yours?" I ask.

"I love their Daquiri ice, which is odd because I tried a sip of a daiquiri drink Kate got once and it was awful." After a brief pause, she continued. "Back to business. What's your favorite electronic business toy?"

Oh the inappropriate thoughts running through my head. "I can't live without my blackberry."

She seems disappointed by my answer. "Darn. I was hoping for some innovative piece of _James Bond _M&A spy gear with all the security running around here," she giggles. "If you could travel back in time and meet any historical figure, who would it be?"

"Leonardo Da Vinci because of his brilliance. I think it would be amazing to bring him into the modern world and show him some of his ideas now exist," I reply firmly. "I would also love to have him spend a year here to see what he would think of next. And you?"

"I confess to being obsessed with Van Gogh. There's something comforting at the thought that someone so broken could create such amazing pieces of art that they will be admired forever," she sighs. "To me, he's just amazing."

Now more than ever I wish I had her full background check. She's stunning and perfect, yet inside I can tell she feels broken. She feels Van Gogh is relatable. When this interview is over, I'm going to have to push Welch to work faster.

"Since this interview is for a college newspaper, we'll move on to the questions the younger people want to know. We'll go through them in a lightening round, this way you don't have time to consider your answer. Ready Mr. Grey?"

I'm immediately unsettled because she's in control and I'm at her mercy. I've seen this type of interview go wrong too many times on people. All I can do is brace myself, take the ride, and if necessary, take control.

"Favorite band?"

"Foo Fighters."

"Favorite beer?"

"Bud-var."

"Favorite mixed drink?"

"Crown and coke."

"Favorite movie?"

"Casablanca."

"Favorite actor?"

"Pass," I reply with a shrug. "Wait, Tom Hanks. He's probably the only one I can name."

"Favorite actress?"

"Pass."

"Favorite brand of sneakers?"

"Converse"

"Favorite car?"

"Audi R8"

"Pet peeve?"

"People playing dumb when they aren't."

"Guilty pleasure?"

"Chocolate cake with extra milk chocolate frosting"

"Really?"

"Yes"

"Blonde, brunette or redhead?"

"Brunette"

"Natural or silicon breasts?"

"Natural," I stare at her in shock and she blushes.

"Word association now Mr. Grey – say the first word that comes to your mind after I feed you a word or phrase."

I nod.

"Angel"

"Charlie"

"Star"

"Trek"

"Dammit, I would have said wars," she laughs. "Red"

I pause for a moment after I start to say _limit_ but get only get as far as li- "Light"

"Farming"

"Hope"

"Hope?" she asks curiously.

"To help end hunger," I elaborate. "That is important to me as I was there once when I was quite young. In this day and age, given the technology and resources, hunger should not be an issue anywhere on this planet, yet it's still a major issue." _Why did I just slip up and tell her about my past? Fuck!_

"If you weren't a successful business mogul, what would you be?"

"Lost," I grin broadly at her, causing her to gasp before giggling. That giggle gets me every time.

"Smoking?"

"Deplorable" She smiled at my response. Good, Miss Steele doesn't approve of smoking.

"Drugs?"

"Unacceptable." She doesn't approve of drugs either based on her relieved sigh.

"Next category – marry, have sex with, or kill. Ready?"

"Not really, but shoot."

"Keira Knightly, Natalie Portman, and Penelope Cruz"

"I'm sorry, but who are these women?" Dammit if she doesn't laugh uncontrollably at me.

"I apologize Mr. Grey. I just thought you might visit the cinema occasionally and be familiar with them. I will make sure this portion of the interview doesn't make it into the final article draft. I have some blackmail material on my roommate after all," she smirks mischievously at me and I instantly relax.

"Favorite book?"

"_The Sun Also Rises_."

"Hemingway, excellent choice."

"Rock, paper, scissors, lizard, or Spock?"

"Spock?"

"Are you certain you are only twenty eight? Haven't you ever seen the Big Bang Theory?"

"According to my drivers license I am indeed twenty-eight years old," I smirk at her. "The big bang theory was well before my time."

"It's a hilarious television show."

"Oh."

"Movie preference – comedy or drama?"

"Drama."

"Favorite Godfather movie?"

"Part Two."

"How would you categorize your musical taste?"

"Varied."

"Favorite musical artist or band?"

"The Beatles."

"Favorite song?"

"Across the Universe. And yours?"

"_White Balloons_ by _Sick Puppies_. It's beautiful," she sighs.

"I've never heard of them."

"Can you get _YouTube_ on your computer or is it blocked for security purposes?"

"I can get it," I reply leading her toward my desk. I watch as she punches a few keys and brings up _YouTube_. A moment later a woman with an Australian accent explains the meaning behind the song and I get why she's connected to the song as we listen to it. The entire time Anastasia stands next to me smiling serenely. I can understand why it's her favorite song. It's beautiful. I click to open my iTunes account and immediately download it, along with all of the albums by the band.

"Thank you for sharing that," I tell her. "It is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard." My statement earns me one of her full-on smiles. She's absolutely stunning. When she heads back to the couch, I follow like an abandoned puppy desperate for a home and we continue the lightening round.

"Clowns – annoying or terrifying?"

"Annoying"

"Favorite Star Trek captain."

"Picard"

"Who shot first, Han or Greedo?"

"Greedo." I can't help but smirk at this question. I could tell by the shock on her pretty face that she expected me not to know what she was talking about, but I loved _Star Wars_ as a kid, just not as much as _Star Trek: The Next Generation_.

"Fantasy vacation?"

"You first."

"England to re-read the collective works of Jane Austin while locked away in the estate that was used as Pemberly in the 2005 movie adaptation of _Pride and Prejudice._ All while I spend a month there binging on English Breakfast Tea and assorted cheesecake," she replies with a contented, dreamy look on her face.

"With no one else around?" I ask. "No significant other in what I'm assuming is a romantic location?"

"I prefer my romantic entanglements of the literary nature. For someone like me, there really isn't … I mean, it's not poss … not safe … nevermind. I apologize. I'm rambling. Let's move on, shall we?"

I nod. What just happened here? The mood was light and carefree. Miss Steele was coming out of her shell and with one question I not only killed the mood, but sent her scurrying back into hiding. Her reaction is concerning. She mentioned not being safe. The thought of her being in any type of danger horrifies me. Dammit Welch, I think to myself, that background check can't come fast enough for my liking. More than anything, I need to understand her. She's a fascinating and alluring creature.

"Your mother is a doctor and your father a lawyer. Did you ever consider following in either of their footsteps?" she asks now unable to make eye contact with me.

"I'm definitely not doctor material. If it's my blood I'm fine. If it belongs to someone else I tend to panic since I don't know how much pain they are in, so I don't feel in control. As to law, well, it's just never interested me."

"So control is important to you?"

I laugh at the question. Important no. Imperative - most definitely. It's my air. Without control, I'm lost. "Yes. I like control in all things. I enjoy a certain level of predictability."

She laughs though it doesn't reach her eyes. "I hope to be a fly on the wall the day you become a parent and watch as your predictability sprouts wings and flies out the window."

"That won't be happening any time soon and when you put it that way, it makes me want to get a vasectomy," I tease and on cue her cheeks flush yet again.

"Christian Grey – Control freak. No real surprise there. You don't accomplish everything you've accomplished at your age without that singular trait – well that and above average intelligence and drive."

"True."

We are interrupted by a knock on the door. Andrea pokes her head in and reminds me of my next meeting that begins in ten minutes.

"Please postpone it until tomorrow Andrea."

"Please that's not necessary. Don't postpone your appointment on my behalf," Anastasia pleads. "I have to leave her promptly at three to get make sure I get to the King Street Station to catch the four o'clock train back to Portland."

"That's just a few miles from here. There's plenty of time for a quick tour of GEH," I insist before waiving Andrea off.

"A few miles with your long legs go by quickly when walking, while being hobbit-sized makes the walk take a bit longer," she explains.

"I can have Taylor drive you, after all, it has started to rain. Or I can fly you back in my helicopter," I offer and her eyes light up before she gets up and heads to the window to watch the rain.

"I love walking in the rain. Besides, I wouldn't feel comfortable getting in your whirlybird in the rain and I need the time on the train to study for finals which are later this week," she explains softly.

"Whirlybird?" I ask with disgust.

She laughs. "Elliot told me he calls your helicopter a chopper to annoy you, so I avoided calling it that, but I've always liked the word whirlybird and how many times in a girls lifetime is she going to get to use it with someone that actually owns one?"

"I'll give you a pass this one time Miss Steele. Charlie Tango is a helicopter, not a chopper or a whirlybird," I counter half-heartedly.

"Charlie Tango sounds like the name of a dancing gigolo out of a poorly written romance novel," she teases. "I get it's code for the call letters, but still, CT could stand for so much more – Crazy Tribble if we are using the Star Trek code, or Christmas Time during the holidays, or Cool Tomatoes."

"I'll stick with Charlie Tango, though Crazy Tribble does have some appeal."

"Can I ask one last question before I leave?"

I've actually enjoyed this interview. For the most part it was laid back, non-threatening, and amusing. I wouldn't mind her staying longer. Her presence is soothing. "Sure."

"Neil Degrasse Tyson or Stephen Hawking?"

"Tyson, definitely Tyson. He's the rock star of the science world in this day and age."

She clicks the digital recorder off and places it in her backpack. Once she gets the backpack on, she shakes my hand, thanks me for making her comfortable and making this experience pleasant. When she reaches my office door, with me behind her, she turns and says, "Have a nice life Mr. Grey."

"I will see you at graduation next week as I'm handing out diplomas," I counter. _Oh I will see you again after that Miss Steele_, I think to myself. _That is a promise._

She smiles up at me before informing me that she'll make sure she leaves a box of homemade chocolate cupcakes with Taylor for me and the security team while we are there for graduation. When she apologizes for having Reynolds arrested for stalking, I'm stunned that she now knows he works for me. "I understand from Elliot and Kate that after the incident with Jose you were helping them watch over me and I appreciate it. Do you know where I can find Mr. Reynolds to apologize and thank him?"

"He should be in the main security room on the first floor. I'll take you down there," I offer as I escort her to the elevator. When the doors open, Welch steps out with a thick file in hand. After telling him to wait for me in my office, I follow Miss Steele into the elevator. The instant the doors close I feel it – the same current of static electricity I felt when I helped her up after tripping into my office. I glance over at her, wondering if she feels it to, but her face appears impassive. Disappointment fills me. The elevator doors can't open fast enough as I feel like an out of control, stupid, horny, teenager. When they finally open, she steps out and nervously looks around the large reception area after seeing Taylor waiting for us.

"Is something wrong?" she stammers.

"No ma'am," Taylor replies. "Just following security protocol as Mr. Grey is now in a public area."

She nods as I head toward the security office. She follows with Taylor at her side. When we enter, Ryan, Reynolds and Sawyer all immediately stand causing Anastasia to giggle and comment they had the same look in her eyes as she did when her father caught her staying up past her bedtime reading. She then bursts out laughing, before apologizing to them. At least they laughed with her.

After apologizing to Reynolds, he asks how she spotted him. Her reply catches us all off-guard making us smile. We never could have predicted her response in a million years. "My father taught me to always be vigilant of my surroundings from when I was little and always thought there was a monster under my bed. It was the only way he could think of to stop me from sneaking into my their bedroom at night when I heard an unfamiliar sound. And it's all because the Oompa Loompa's in _Willie Wonka_ freaked me out." She blushes at her own admission.

Miss Steele is full of surprises. Oddly, she's not predictable at all and I like it.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> The pinterest page for this story has been updated at: pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life to include: _Sick Puppies - White Balloons_ and a few other items (the hot men of Mr. Grey's security team).

Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5: The Article

_**Author's Note:**__** Okay people, I'm not a journalist and I'm not a poet or songwriter, so please have mercy on my soul for the draft of the article and my shot at writing a song chorus, which occurred around two a.m. If it sucks in your opinion, I apologize profusely, but I plan on finishing the song.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5 – The Article<strong>

Once Miss Steele leaves Grey House, I head back to my office with Taylor in tow. Whatever Welch has dug up appears to be substantial given the size of the file in his hands. Taylor will keep me on an even keel and remain detached in any analysis of the findings. For that I'm grateful.

As we walk past Andrea's desk, I ask her to bring us coffee before heading into my office. Welch is sitting at the conference table with the file beneath his folded hands. We take our places and Welch begins. Before he can say three words, Andrea enters with a tray carrying three cups of coffee, serves us and leaves.

"During the six month time period you requested we review in further detail, I found limited information on Miss Steele other than a few emergency room visits for falls, so I took the liberty or using the same time period and delving into her mother Carla Adams, her adoptive father Ray Steele, and her then new step-father Stephen Morton. Ray Steele was in Montesano Washington during most of that time, with the exception of a few days when he was in Texas. From the minute he separated from Miss Steele's mother, he fought for custody of Anastasia. Her mother was in Texas married to Morton. During the time before they separated, police were called at least a dozen times to the residence with domestic violence complaints where Miss Steele reluctantly informed the police that everything was fine within the home and that it was just their television was too loud which annoyed the neighbors. She promised they would keep it down. Her mother on multiple occasions told the police similar tales.

"I sent someone down to the small town to ask around and a neighbor remembers a time when Morton beat her mother until she was hospitalized and Miss Steele ran away. This neighbor hid Miss Steele at a family members house a few towns over until her mother was released from the hospital. She claims that Miss Steele was badly beaten at that time as well, but refused to go for treatment, as she was terrified Morton would find her. The neighbor stated that in the six months they were in Texas, Miss Steele had multiple broken bones in her hand and fingers, black eyes, and multiple cuts and scrapes like she's been dragged across cement.

"When Mrs. Adams was released from the hospital, Morton was missing with an active warrant for his arrest for aggravated spousal battery, unlawful imprisonment, aggravated abuse of a minor whom we assume to be Miss Steele, spousal sexual assault, assault with a deadly weapon, and arson. Miss Steele managed to contact Ray Steele in Washington and let him know what was going on. He flew to Texas, rented a vehicle, picked up Miss Steele, and went to pick up Mrs. Adams as she was being discharged from the hospital," Welch continued. "The confrontation that followed in the hospital's main lobby made national news when Morton shot Mr. Steele and Mrs. Adams at point blank range, held Miss Steele hostage with a gun to her head, but she was eventually freed by the local SWAT team, who killed Morton to end the stand off."

All I can think is holy shit but I can see Welch has yet more information. "What else?"

"While her parents were in the hospital, Miss Steele refused to leave their sides. According to the hospital staff my guy interviewed, she was so traumatized that she believed what Morton told her as he lay dying on the ground – that she was his and he'd be coming back to get her. That she'd never escape from him because now he'd be her biggest nightmare. The guy was a mental case who terrorized a vulnerable teenager.

"People that knew her in Montesano before Texas stated she was completely different when she returned. She'd always been shy and quiet, but now it was extreme. Some of her classmates informed us that it took her quite some time to trust people that she'd trusted before Texas again, but she was never the same. She went to school, volunteered at a local food bank, but that was about it. Her mother moved to Las Vegas after Texas, signing over permanent custody of her to Mr. Steele."

"And we're absolutely certain Morton is dead?" I have to ask.

"The police shot him three times before he went down. I saw the footage and my guy found the burial plot. He's long since dead and buried sir."

"Does Morton have any family that might believe that he was the wronged party?" Taylor asks.

"Not that we found. His family never claimed his body. His remains were buried by the State of Texas, not family or friends."

"That's one less thing to worry about," Taylor mumbles deep in thought. "Has Miss Steele had any issues with anyone other than Mr. Rodriguez since she returned to Washington?"

"None and from what I understand the Rodriguez incident was him having too much wine and attempting to take their relationship out of the friend's zone. According to his father, who believed my guy to be a member of the SPD investigating the incident, his son has been in love with Miss Steele for four years even though she'd made it abundantly clear that they were just friends and that is all they would ever be. It was an alcohol-induced lapse in judgment on the younger Rodriguez's part that he promised will not be repeated. He told my guy his balls got the message loud and clear because Miss Steele threatened to let her father deal with him," Welch chuckled. "Based on Mr. Steele's military record and his industrial-strength wood chipper, I wouldn't set a finger or any other body part out of line with his baby girl."

Once I'm satisfied that there are no active threats against Miss Steele, I dismiss Welch and Taylor. My mind wanders back to her mention in the interview about not being safe and I can't help but wonder if it's because of Morton's dying threat to her or if there is something more. No child should go through what either of us did growing up. All I know is I need to make her feel safe because I want to spend more time with her.

* * *

><p>Kate and I hadn't heard from Ana since she left Seattle and returned to Portland after interviewing Christian yesterday. She also wasn't answering her phone, which concerned me. We didn't have food poisoning but rather we wanted Ana to do the interview because during the concert and at the hospital, Christian couldn't take his eyes off her. I'd never seen my brother stare at a woman that way, so I unleashed the manipulative prick in me once again, got Kate onboard, and we sent Ana off to do the interview. Kate wasn't too upset about not doing it. She and Christian didn't see eye-to-eye on many things, so she knew it would be all business and the article would be pretty much whatever Christian wanted her to write. I wish they would get along but that's what happens when you put two type-A personalities together and one wants to know everything about the other, who happens to be a freak about his privacy.<p>

We woke up early this morning for our drive back to Portland in an attempt to see Ana before she went for her shift at Claytons. Unfortunately, when we arrived at their apartment it was empty. Ana's knapsack was on her bed along with a print out of Ana's first draft of the article on Christian. We know we shouldn't be in Ana's bedroom once we knew she was already at work, but we had to read what she had written, but that was before we found the digital recorder next to Ana's bed. We took it into the kitchen with the printed article and while I made us breakfast we listened to the interview. It was amusing how before the actual interview started, Ana had recorded her reaction to seeing Kate's bogus questions, the fact that her cell phone was dead, and her conversation with Kate about the stupidity of her questions. It was hilarious.

Before the actual interview began, Christian must have found her looking at those stupid little paintings in his office. Their conversation about them was very revealing on both sides. Kate and I smiled at each other – Christian and Ana had found common ground.

When the actual interview began we were both stunned – close your eyes and think of Van Gogh's Starry Night. Who starts an interview like that, but it worked. It set an intimate, friendly tone that went on from there.

"You can almost feel the chemistry between them coming out of the recording," Kate stammered in shock.

All I could do was nod. I was too choked up to finally hear this side of my no nonsense businessman brother who never acted his age. When she asked him about going off to college, I got up and headed to the kitchen to serve our meal because I didn't want Kate to see the tears in my eyes at his confession that he found comfort having Mia and I close to him. Fuck, I feel like a pussy.

The interview was amazing as they went back and forth over being attracted to men or women, boxed macaroni and cheese vs. homemade, Star Trek vs. Star Wars, time travel, and other normal shit I didn't realize my baby brother had opinions on or even thought about. We burst out laughing when he didn't know who Kiera Knightly, Natalie Portman, and Penelope Cruz were, which was amazing because I know for a fact that he'd seen all six Star Wars movies and stated that the chick that was Amidala sucked. Ana also got him to change his answer on favorite band by asking it twice – Foo Fighters and the Beatles. Gotta love her. She even got him to listen to her favorite song, White Balloons by Sick Puppies. Don't get me wrong, I love that song, but when Ana makes you listen to it on repeat to torture you when you drive her back to Portland from Seattle, well, you just want to never hear it again or gouge your ears out.

We then hit the part of the recording where the mood shifted and Ana almost lost it. We know her well enough to hear in her voice that her mind was heading down a bad path, but Christian missed it until it was too late and the interview moved back to more of a business tone for a few minutes.

Andrea's interruption a few minutes later with Christian willing to cancel a meeting to continue to spend time with her shocked the hell out of us. Ana's denial was disappointing, but at least she referred to Charlie Tango as a whirlybird and he didn't snap at her. Me he would have verbally assaulted, like he does when I call it a chopper.

By the end of the recording, Kate was grinning from ear-to-ear. "That was amazing. It showed me a whole other side to Christian. I never thought he could be anything other than a pompous asshole."

"I've known him for twenty-three years and it's a side I've never really seen either," I admit. "I want a copy to play for my parents and Mia, when she gets back from Paris."

We grab Kate's laptop and download the recording onto it. As that's going on we read the first draft of Ana's article.

_**Lesson Learned From Interviewing a Seattle Billionaire**_

_By A.R. Steele (as manipulated by Kate Kavanagh, College Roommate & Editor)_

_In our lives we all meet people who directly change how we think or view the world. I was fortunate enough to meet someone who not only impacted my life, but my perception of the world around me. Who you ask? It's none other than Seattle billionaire, entrepreneur, and philanthropist, Mr. Christian Trevelyan-Grey. For those of us who live in a closet or with their head buried in books, or don't search the World Wide Web, or follow local business news, like me, Mr. Grey is a twenty-eight year old, self-made billionaire and founder of Grey Enterprise Holdings LLC or GEH as it's affectionately known by it's employees._

_In the essence of full disclosure, my best friend and roommate, Kate Kavanagh, is dating Mr. Grey's brother and has been for months. I've personally known Elliot for a year and a half, but was still clueless with regard to his private, younger brother. That ended about a week ago, when Elliot roped his billionaire brother into flying his helicopter to Portland so take my sorry self to Seattle, but the mortifying details of that are another story for another place and time. Suffice to say, my first impression of the GEH CEO, was a man who was the ruler of his universe – billionaire business man, personal security following him around, impeccably dressed, and ubber-confident when it came to piloting his helicopter and everything else. As you would expect, his presence was commanding and yes, I'll admit it, positively intimidating. Elliot and Christian Grey were opposite sides of coin. Where Christian Grey was serious, Elliot was laid back and hilarious. Together they are a sight to behold – Ying & Yang._

_I was roped into interviewing Mr. Grey when the editor of the school paper "got sick" and begged me to do it at the last minute; this after the flight from Portland to Seattle where I said all of ten words to the intimidating Mr. Grey just a few days before when he saw me at my absolute worst. It was a disaster in the making - a disaster that was staged by Elliot Grey and his willing accomplice and better half, Kate, to get me out of my shell. Unfortunately I didn't realize it until I was firmly planted on the couch in Mr. Grey's office with a list of nonsensical questions in hand. I stepped back, called Kate and if I could have reached through the phone line and strangled her, I would have. Little did I know this interview was the best thing that could ever happen to me. It truly was a once in a lifetime experience and to Mr. Grey, if you ever read this – Thank you!_

_GEH is one of the top three private employers in the state of Washington, behind Boeing and Microsoft. Not too shabby for a company that was founded just over six years ago by a Harvard drop-out at the tender age of twenty-one. What most people don't realize is GEH ticks off quite a few equal opportunity buckets along with other wonderful talking points as follows:_

_-It has the highest percentage of females in management positions. Forty-eight percent of managers and above are female, including Mr. Grey's Chief Operating Officer, Ros Bailey._

_-GEH was voted the top employer in the country with regard to gay, lesbian, and transgendered rights in the workplace._

_-Just over sixty percent of GEH's management employees are minorities._

_-What's the average age of GEH employees world-wide? Twenty-five. Which means most aren't that far out of college, like us._

_-Since GEH's inception, domestic partnerships, regardless of same or different genders, have been covered on their health insurance. GEH also pays 100% of the cost of health insurance for its employees and their dependents. In this day and age, that's a rarity._

_-Five percent of GEH's net profits after expenses are donated to carefully selected charities every year._

_-GEH's employee turnover rate last year was just under one percent, where the norm is between two and four percent. Either it's a great place to work or Mr. Grey has employees duct taped to their workstations. (Note to self: buy stock in duct tape just in case)_

_As you can see by the points above, what he has accomplished is pretty spectacular, but the biggest lesson I learned was this:_

_**ONE ORDINARY PERSON CAN PROFOUNDLY IMPACT OUR WORLD!**_

_I know, based on the impression I paint of Christian Grey above, he appears anything but ordinary, but the reality is quite different. I went into the interview expecting a serious, guarded CEO because I knew he rarely did interviews. In fact, this was only his second one. The first being an impromptu interview when his COO, Ros Bailey was named LGBT Woman of the Year for the third year running. What I saw was a regular guy who happened to have a big office and wore a ridiculously expensive suit. He had many of the same feelings and experiences I did growing up or should I say, that we all did growing up._

_When I arrived back in Portland after the interview I'd be lying if I didn't disclose that I did more research on Mr. Grey. He understands adversity. He was orphaned at the tender age of four, adopted by Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey and Carrick Grey, becoming the younger broker of Elliot Grey and later on, big brother to Mia Grey. He grew up in a loving home where his parents led by example in both behavior and philanthropy. All three Grey children, now adults, are benefactors to charities with Elliot, owner of Grey Construction, supporting organizations like Habitat-for-Humanity and local food banks, Mia Grey, currently studying abroad, is involved with charities in Paris that provide relief in Africa and areas devastated by natural disasters, and finally Christian who donates GEH funds toward crop research, feeding and educating those without access around the world, and he sits on the board of his parents charity, Coping Together, which helps drug addicted parents get clean and become better caretakers of their children. This one man came from humble beginnings, remembers what it's like to be hungry, and has made it his life's work to feed and educate millions. Not bad for a poor, orphaned, child originally from Detroit._

_Walking into Mr. Grey's office for the interview I was met not by a hard-nosed CEO, but by an affable man with mischief in his eyes that didn't take himself too seriously. I wasn't prepared for that. I would expect that from his brother Elliot, but nothing prepared me for this personable, enigmatic, yet ordinary man. Ordinary still sounds odd to me, but the dictionary defines ordinary as the commonplace, average, or usual, which perfectly define his beginnings. They were quite ordinary._

_In his office he has a mosaic of thirty-six small paintings by Irish artist Jennifer Trouton. They are spectacular paintings that take the ordinary items and raise them to extraordinary works of art. To me, they are the perfect reflection of the life of one Christian Trevelyan-Grey – he rose from ordinary beginnings to become an extraordinary humanitarian and businessman. We discussed Trouton's paintings and Van Gogh's Starry Night, which he described as ethereal and magical, revealing they made him feel free. The paintings took ordinary items like battered doorways and condemned dwellings and brought them back to life through the artists brush strokes and point of view. This was where I first found common ground with Mr. Grey. I know all too well what it's like to feel broken, but to me the paintings gave me hope that despite certain events in my life, maybe I could be more than the way I viewed myself, something my two best friends have been trying to drill into me for years. My hope became the gift of the first steps toward freedom from my personal anxieties and they were courtesy of the tag team of Mr. Grey and Miss Trouton' wonderful art work._

_When we discussed his company he revealed he steadfastly believes his best business decision ever was hiring Ros Bailey as his COO. From a global business perspective his greatest accomplishment wasn't buying or selling a particular company, but being able to help feed those without means around the globe. It was during this statement that I caught yet another glimpse of the amazing man beneath the CEO exterior – the idealist little kid who wants to save the world. It was a spectacular site._

_Christian Grey is a man who enjoys Star Trek over Star Wars, Picard over Kirk, and the Beatles over the Stones, though he also loves the Foo Fighters. He can't name a Hollywood actor or actress to save his life other than Tom Hanks, which in this day and age is oddly refreshing. I didn't dare ask him what a Kardashian was or I'd have to give him the answer from Supernatural – just another bloodsucker. His favorite food is macaroni and cheese, and his guilty pleasure is chocolate cake. Don't let me start ranting about our debate about the virtues of boxed macaroni and cheese vs. homemade. The man will eat boxed macaroni and cheese for heaven's sake! _

_This is the same man who went off to Harvard missing his family, like we all do, because he found comfort just knowing they were nearby and three thousand miles wasn't close enough. If he could travel back in time to meet someone it would be Leonardo Da Vinci and bring him back to see some of his ideas are now reality. How cool would that be? _

_I will admit I found his belief that Greedo shot before Han utterly ridiculous, but if that's his biggest flaw other than boxed macaroni and cheese, I think the world can deal with it. Don't you? _

_So I challenge you, my fellow college students, to follow his lead. Take the first steps to becoming extraordinary because he is proof that one man from humble beginnings can make a difference in this world, so why can't we? I dare you._

Kate and I looked at each other and grinned. Ana captured the tone of the interview perfectly in her article. It was bordering in some places as being intimate. We couldn't wait for it to go to print because this was the best thing we'd ever done in terms of pushing Ana outside of her comfort zone because we managed to push Christian too.

While Kate put the recorder and the draft back in Ana's room, I cleaned up after breakfast. I was shocked when she returned with what I knew to be Ana's lyric notebook in her hand and a shit-eating grin on her face.

"For someone who claimed to never write music again, she was writing either late last night or this morning," Kate smirked holding the notebook against her chest. "And it's different from what she's written in the past, but you can't see it."

I know she's taunting me, so I chase her around the apartment, throw her on her bed, pin her down one limb at a time and grab the notebook. Kate giggles as she looks over my shoulder to read the short chorus to this new song Ana began writing.

_**SONG TITLE: Paint Me Now**_

_**Chorus:**_

_Paint me now_

_My body's your canvas_

_Splatter it in edible paint_

_Before lapping me clean_

_You are my Van Gogh_

_Make me your Scream_

_Your name is my opus_

_Paint me now_

_I beseech thee_

_Paint me now_

_Please complete me_

"There's no way our Ana wrote this," I stammer blushing. "She's pure and this is bordering on naughty."

"It is naughty," Kate laughs, her cheeks crimson like mine. "Maybe she finds Christian attractive too."

"Maybe?" I laugh at her. "She's writing about having edible body paint lapped off her body. We might have to buy her a vibrator. I can't wait to see how she finishes this one so I can set it to music."

Kate laughs hysterically for a few moments, smirks, and agrees. "Let's go to Fantasy on Coronado and get Ana a few presents, and while we are there a few for ourselves."

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><p><strong><em>Thank your for reading. Now it's my turn to enjoy reading some fan fiction! WOO HOO!<em>**


	6. Chapter 6: Escaping the Burrow

**Chapter 6 – Escaping the Burrow**

The week is dragging. I went into Monday dreading the interview and it ended up being one of the most relaxing hours of my life. Amazingly, it's been forty-eight hours since Miss Steele walked out the doors of Grey House and her graduation tomorrow can't come fast enough for my liking, as I'll get to see her again. Kate emailed me the final article this morning, allowing my PR Team to have final editorial control over the piece, but after reading it we decided not to change a word.

The article itself wasn't what I expected, which was refreshing. Rather than go question by question, Miss Steele wrote about how one person could make a difference in the world. I was surprised by how much she found out about me after leaving the interview. Granted it was all a matter of public record, but she took what should have been a boring interview and turned it into a piece to inspire people. While it felt good, it also felt oddly uncomfortable. It's not the type of attention I deserve, not with my past anyway. Still we're allowing it to be published as-is and my PR department was thrilled that Kavanagh Media struck a deal with the university paper and they are going to publish it, unedited, in all of their print and online publications at the same time. My PR Team is staffed up and ready for the phones to start ringing tomorrow while I'm conferring diplomas at WSU. They always ring when there are rumors or any type of news about me. It's fucking annoying.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door before Taylor and Ros enter. For all intents and purposes, Ros is in charge once Taylor and I head to Portland in Charlie Tango an hour from now. I can tell by the smirk on Ros's face that she's going to bust my balls. Fucking Ros is the only person, other than Elliot who can get away with it.

As they take their seats on the other side of my desk, I sigh and Ros begins her inquisition. "You are so fucking wrong that Greedo shot first," she laughs pushing her phone to me. I click on the video she has ready. I'm Christian Grey, even when I'm wrong, I don't admit it.

"And your point Ros?"

"You were wrong," She grins.

"Was I now?" I activate the speakerphone on my handset and dial Barney. When he answers, I immediately ask, "Who shot first Han or Greedo?"

"It depends on which release of the movie you are watching. In the original release, Han shot first, but in the 1997 Special Edition release George Lucas inserted a blaster sound before Han fired, to make Han not look like a cold-blooded killer, so technically, both answers are correct. It's been altered at least once more since the special edition to make it appear that Han dodged Greedo's blaster bolt before shooting."

"Thanks Barney," I mutter as I disconnect the call. "Technically, I'm not incorrect."

"Like the opinion of a billionaire who eats boxed macaroni and cheese means anything," she pouted mockingly at me. "The article is awesome by the way. We should have this Miss Steele write all your PR pieces. You came off as human as opposed to the anal retentive, belligerent, asshole android you are ninety percent of the time."

I can't help but laugh. "What can I say, ninety percent of the time I'm channeling my inner Ros. Now back to business. Taylor and I are heading to Portland in about an hour. Tomorrow is graduation, then Friday I have meetings all day at the university to discuss further funding of their crop research programs. Saturday I'll be picking Mia up from the airport and spending the day with my family. The deal for Tek-Ho Holdings is progressing normally, though their board meets Friday mid-day for their final vote on the sale. If you need to go to Silicon Valley to exert any pressure, the jet will be at your disposal. Take Barney and two CPO's with you. The deal parameters have been set, but you know where we are willing to go on this one. I'm willing to pay a little more to avoid having to travel across the Pacific every time I need to visit that office. I want this deal to happen, otherwise we'll both end up in Manila next week chasing after our second choice tech company."

"Got it," she replies. "That email you sent me about buying a local publishing house was a joke right? I mean do you really want me to buy Seattle Independent Publishing? Based on our conversation not too long ago there weren't enough returns in publishing for us to consider investing there."

"Just make it happen Ros. It's a favor for a family friend," I borderline lie. I'm buying it because Miss Steele begins working there once she moves to Seattle this weekend. This will allow me to ensure she's not only safe, but has job security.

Ros just stares at me as if I've lost my mind. "You've got a friend?" she asks before bursting out laughing. "You're too fucking funny sometimes."

I glance over at Taylor, who is attempting to stifle a chuckle. "Just get the fuck out Ros and make it all happen or you'll work for a month from Manila."

She heads toward the door. While she's standing in the doorway, she turns, smirks, flips me off, and asks, "Seattle Independent Publishing, really?"

"Make it so number one," I counter in my best Picard voice.

"I'm telling Gwen you officially made me _Will Riker_ so I have your permission to be a skank," she laughs as she leaves.

Taylor explains that Elliot called. He wants to ride with us to Portland, as he's already driven there and back once this week. I can't figure out how Elliot manages to take so much time off, yet still have a ridiculously successful business. He claims he has good site managers, which is probably true, but at his peak time of the year, which is now, he's about to take two or three weeks off to vacation with the Kavanagh clan in Barbados. He also confessed that the fact that he's not an obsessive control freak when it comes to work leaves him plenty of free time for Kate, music, our family, and annoying the fuck out of me.

Thirty minutes later we are in the air heading toward Portland. At least I know that while we are in the air, Elliot will keep his smart mouth shut. He's not a huge fan of helicopters ever since I took him for a low flying, bumpy ride last year and didn't stop until he puked – all because he taunted me like the festering asshole he can be at times. It was one of the best days ever, though Taylor threatened to quit if I ever did it again with him as a passenger. I found out later that Sawyer would have been game for that ride, so I make a mental note for another time.

"So bro, do you have any dinner plans for tonight? Kate and I are heading to _Toro Bravo_. You should come."

"Nothing like being a third wheel while you two mouth-fuck each other at the table," I chuckle. I glance back at Taylor, who is struggling to maintain his normal detached façade but failing miserably.

"Ana's the third wheel. You'd be the fourth," he counters. "Besides, this is our final attempt at getting Ana to eat octopus before the move. You have to see her face when it's brought to the table. I swear every time she looks like she's going to hurl right there and then. It's fucking hilarious. Her eyes even tear up."

I can't help but ask why he and Kate keep pushing her like that. His response surprises me. "Ray worries about Ana. After a shit-storm in her past she withdrew from pretty much everything. Kate and Ray have been pushing her for the past four years to try new things and step outside that shell that is her carefully guarded comfort zone covered in a dozen layers of full body armor. It was Ray who finally convinced her to write music with me. You realize Ana and I have been talking online for over two years. It took me close to a year to convince her to partner with me. Ray is an overprotective parent, so he knew she'd been talking to someone about the possibility. He tracked me down after as he calls it, checking up on me, read me the riot act about not stepping out of line with his baby, and then helped me convince her.

"He told me about how her mother wanted her to be the next Britney Spears, whereas Ana wanted no part of it. Growing up she took voice lessons until she was ten and played not only the piano, but the guitar and violin. She was an orchestra kid. She's always loved music, but her mom's determination to live vicariously through her made her hate it. I've met her mom, Carla. She's a piece of fucking work. Hot as all hell especially for her early forties, but crazy self-centered, full of confidence that she shouldn't have, and doesn't give a shit about what impact her actions have on her daughter. Ray feels Ana must have felt like she grew up in her mother's shadow and retreated into her own little shell," Elliot commented. The disdain in his voice at the mention of Ana's mother meant the situation with her was probably even worse than I thought because Elliot had a habit of dating women who were just like Ana's mother – manipulative lookers without the brains of a bunny rabbit, and were gold medal winning Olympians in social climbing through the art of penis-riding. That is until Kate Kavanagh came along. She's wealthy, driven, intelligent, and doesn't give a shit that his last name is Grey. Perhaps it's time I cut Kate a fucking break.

"Trust me Christian when it comes to Ana, no one can make her do something if there isn't a small part of her that wants to do it. She's stubborn to a fault. I mean there have been times when I've wanted to hit her over the head with a fucking rock. If there wasn't a little piece of her that wanted to hit that stage last weekend, it wouldn't have happened. All Kate and I had to do was present the proper opportunity and a nudge," Elliot explains with a grin. "Though I will say, I was shocked when she agreed to do the interview. If Kate had done it, given your interactions with her up until now, it would have sucked. Kate and I knew it, so we faked being sick to see if it would go better with Ana."

Elliot goes on to explain that Ana is a gifted writer and posts her stories online. She has a series of short stories about a teenager, trapped in a house by evil, demented ghosts. While she's trapped she lives out her adventures in her mind. In the stories the girl does all types of things – bungee jumps, plays ice hockey, sings with a band, becomes Muay Thai champion of the world, and shit like that. In the story she posted last night she had the girl being a Ghostbuster, which to me means she's trying to break out of this prison she feels she feels she's in. It was awesome to read.

"In the past six months Kate, Ethan and I have dragged her bungee jumping and to play ice hockey, which was a disaster because we had to teach Ana how to skate first. Just imagine a baby deer trying to stand on it's wobbly legs for the first time and you'll have a clear picture of Ana on our first five outings. Finally I picked her ass up, brought her to center ice, stood her up, and had her take a shot at toward goal. She was so determined and swung so hard that we both ended up on our asses on the ice. I walked away with a slight concussion from her hockey stick hitting my head, and she had a sore ass for weeks."

"Did she make the shot?" I can't help but ask with a grin.

"She never even hit the fucking puck. I mean not even close, but at least she laughed her ass off. I guess what I'm saying is she needs the occasional nudge outside her comfort zone so she can really live. She's open to new experiences but without a bit of a nudge or sometimes a firm shove or swift kick in her delectable ass, it just won't happen. She's missing out on life because of what that fucked up mother of hers put her through years ago. Do you remember the national news about six years ago covering a hostage situation in a Texas hospital that went on for a dozen or so hours?"

"Vaguely," I lie. Taylor and I have read all about it recently. We even watched the media coverage from old recordings Welch secured from a friend at CNN.

"The short take on it was this: a mom gets divorced after cheating on her family, drags her daughter to Texas to be with the demented pig she married the second her divorce was final. Domestic battery and terror ensue. After six months the asshole nearly beats mom to death, tortures the kid, and goes on the run. Ray flew to Texas to get Ana and Carla out of there. Asshole lies in wait for them as Carla is discharged from the hospital. It turns out he was never interested in Carla. He wanted Ana all along and her mother was just a means to an end.

"He shot both Ray and Carla but before he could get away with Ana, the standoff with police happens. It was just a fucking mess. Just thinking about it now makes me want to dig up the asshole's body and fill it with M-80s and blow it up just to make sure he's really fucking dead. Kate, Ray and I don't know what he did to Ana during those six months, and she won't talk about it, but what we do know is she still lives in that same fear. The fucker's been dead for six years and she's still terrified. It's heartbreaking. That bitch Carla walked away from Ana after that, giving full custody to Ray because she was pissed that the fucked up pig wanted Ana and not her. She didn't like that she wasn't the center of his fucking world. All she cared about was eliminating competition. I fucking hate that bitch."

It was nice to see Elliot protective of Ana and not trying to fuck her senseless. It was clear he felt the same way about her as he did about Mia. If anyone ever tried to harm Ana, they would answer to him. Just hearing Elliot talk about her past pisses me off beyond belief. It's a good thing Morton is dead and buried because I couldn't be responsible for my actions if he wasn't.

"So are you coming to dinner with us? Ana feels comfortable with you now, so she won't just sit there like a bunny hiding in her burrow. It will be good for her to have more social interaction than she normally allows herself," Elliot pushes.

"What time?"

"In an hour."

"I've got a conference call in a half hour on an acquisition in Jakarta. If it doesn't go too long I'll meet you there. No promises though because this deal has put Ros and I through the ringer. Nothing has gone as expected and if this call doesn't go well, Ros is going to hire a hit man to deal with these assholes," I chuckle as we prepare to land in Portland.

"I fucking adore Ros," Elliot laughs. "Don't those morons realize that of the two of you, she's scarier? The last time I went to dinner with her and Gwen she specifically told the waiter – no peanuts or peanut oil in the food for the entire table due to food allergies, just in case. I swear to god, after she used the Epi-pen on Gwen, I almost had to hold her back from slamming the asshole down on the table and shoving the thing up his ass."

I remember Ros telling me about that and how she expected me to bail her out if she ever found herself behind bars. If it wasn't for the fact that Gwen needed to go to the hospital, that waiter would have not only had the Epi-pen stuck up his ass, but she would have castrated the bastard and shoved that appendage up there as well. Ros being well _fucking Ros the crazy bitch Bailey_, did two things: filed legal paperwork in Gwen's name suing the establishment and then leaked it to the press through Kate, now the restaurant is on the verge of closing. _Note to self: never piss off Ros. She knows too much._

By the time I checked into my hotel and finished my conference call two and a half hours had passed. Ten minutes into the conference call, I had Taylor text Elliot that I wouldn't make dinner. It was going to be a long, drawn out, non-productive bullshit call. When would they learn, if they weren't willing to negotiate, then don't waste my fucking time.

After I hang up with Jakarta, I immediately dial Elliot as I grab a beer from the mini-frig. "Hey. The call just ended. What a fucking bunch of assholes."

"Well, you missed a great dinner. Kate brought home a take out order for you, so you can assume your presence is expected here. She even got some Bud-var."

"Really?" I'm shocked. I know Kate can't stand me; after all, the feeling is mutual. "What are you up to?"

He explains he and Kate are getting ready to watch an old movie, while Ana is sitting up on the roof deck reading, as usual. "When you get here we can all head up to the roof and hang out. Oh and bring desert – preferably strawberry and pineapple cheesecake from the hotel restaurant as it's Kate and Ana's favorite."

Thirty minutes later, I have Taylor drop me at Kate's apartment. Thankfully we had the address from the background check we ran on Ana after having met her because Elliot forgot to text it to me. After stepping out of the car I feel better about my wardrobe selection – simple jeans, v-neck t-shirt, and chucks. If I showed up in my typical suit, Elliot would have given me all kinds of shit.

I bypass the elevator and take the steps up to the second floor, pastry box in hand. When I reach apartment 2A, there is a simple note on the door from Elliot that reads:

**_We're on the roof bro!_**

After climbing an additional six flights of steps, I open the door to the rooftop deck and am greeted by the sound of Elliot and Anastasia arguing over which is better the acoustic version of their song _Never Be What You Want*,_ or the full-blown rock version of it.

I see Elliot has his guitar at the ready and Anastasia has a massive portable keyboard and a well-worn copy of The Dark Tower V: The Wolves of Calla. She reads quickly. Just the other day she was reading the second book in the series. She looks at home up here sitting on a lounge chair with her book, keyboard, throw, iPod, and a picture of her with her father. She looks comfortable sitting there wearing black leggings and an over-sized men's multi-colored, flannel shirt that I recognized as Elliot's favorite since high school and he bitched about losing in a poker game to her on the way up here. Apparently, she now wore it whenever he came over just to piss him off. It made me like her even more because he pushed her and she pushed him right back.

The rooftop deck is quaint, with multiple lounge chairs, an outdoor kitchen, and tropical lighting. It's peaceful up here under the stars. "How about you let Kate and I decide since we heard the rock version at the concert?" I ask before taking the beer Kate passes me with a smirk as we both notice the hesitation on Anastasia's face. "Come now Miss Steele, I've seen you in concert and you made me close my eyes during the interview and tell you some of my secrets so surely you can sing one song in my presence."

Anastasia nodded shyly before glancing toward Elliot, who merely smirked at her and grabbed his guitar. In seconds Elliot strummed, while her delicate fingers moved across the keys like they always belonged there. I couldn't believe how spectacular they sounded singing together. Elliot's normally gruff rocker singing style was softer, mellow, and judging by Kate's reaction, women would find it highly appealing or as Mia would probably call it – swoon-worthy. Hearing Ana sing without being drown out by drums and base made me realize how sweet her vocals were and her inflection range tugged at my soul.

By the end of the song I agreed the acoustic was better than the rock version. I felt a stab of protective anger when Elliot grinned broadly at her before pulling her into his arms. "You did good short stuff."

"Thanks El," she mutters softly before taking a sip from her bottle of water. I can't help but notice that while Elliot and I are drinking beer and Kate a glass of wine, Ana's is alcohol-free. Granted she took a double shot of hard liquor right before hitting the stage at the benefit, but was lucky she could sing after coughing and sputtering after downing it.

"So," Elliot asks us "Rock or acoustic?"

"Acoustic," Kate and I respond at the same time. Elliot sighs, pulls out his billfold and hands Ana a twenty-dollar bill and mutters uncle.

For the next hour we discuss the girls plans for after graduation. Kate is going to be working as an entry-level reporter at the Seattle Times once she returns from her family vacation in Barbados, while Anastasia begins work on Monday at Seattle Independent Publishing. I knew both of their plans. Hell, she's the reason I was buying SIP. There was something about her that triggered an impulse in people to want to protect her. I knew from Taylor, both he and Ryan felt the same way about her – protective.

When Anastasia and I went off on a tangent for a half-hour discussing the Dark Tower series and which were our favorite books and why, it was clear Elliot and Kate appeared bored. When Anastasia mentioned the graphic novels, or in my world comic books, my interest was peaked.

"Wait right here," Anastasia exclaimed jumping up from her lounge chair and heading down to the apartment.

"Thank you Christian," Kate laughed. "Finally she has someone to discuss that series she's been obsessed with for the past four years. Now she can bore you with the comic books rather than me."

Elliot is grinning from ear-to-ear. I know he's up to something but my thoughts are interrupted when Ana returns with a stack of graphic novels in her arms. She places them on her lounge chair and pushes her chair to be side-by-side with mine.

"I can't believe you haven't seen these. They are epic," she stammers as she hands me the first one, _The Dark Tower: The Gunslinger Born_. It's amazing how excited she is as she shows me the book, raves about the artists, and rambles on and on over the story line. After ten minutes, Elliot and Kate share a knowing look, grin, and then excuse themselves for the night.

If you had told me I would have spent the subsequent four hours with Anastasia Steele sitting on a rooftop discussing the merits of the Dark Tower series and reading graphic novels, I would have told you that you were insane. It was fantastic and felt oddly normal.

At three in the morning, we started talking about what made me want to go into mergers and acquisitions, plus her love of sharing great literature with people inspiring her to venture into publishing.

The conversation drifts to astronomy as we gaze up at the stars. When she shivers, I take her blanket and lay it over her. When my cold hand brushes against hers, she throws part of the blanket over me and the discussion of Pluto being a planet begin and end, before it turns to the dumbing down of America due to news agencies selling out by publishing more random gossip and celebrity news as opposed to real news.

It was the most relaxing evening I think I'd ever spent and all I did was sit on a roof with a girl like a regular guy. My past and my company faded into oblivion leaving me living in the now. It was amazing and her presence soothing. I don't remember us falling asleep on the roof with her head resting on my shoulder, but when we woke up in the morning, it was ninety-minutes to graduation. It didn't dawn on me until that moment of panic, that it was the first time over two decades where I wasn't woken by nightmares. That alone made me smile as I escorted the panicked Anastasia Steele back to her apartment. Apparently she didn't like being late either.

Standing at her now open door all I wanted to do was taste those pouty, full lips. She merely glanced up at me, blushed, and thanked me for a wonderful evening. She stopped after taking an additional step into the apartment and turned back to me, gave me a massive smile before telling me she'd see me at graduation. The entire time she was staring at my lips, just as I was staring at hers. The chemistry between us was readily apparent, feeling like an electric charge whenever we were near each other. I knew she felt it too as her now overly large pupils stared into mine.

"I'll see you at graduation Mr. Grey," she whispered.

"It's Christian, Anastasia."

"Christian," she sighed and it was the sexiest thing I'd ever heard.

"Until graduation Anastasia," I sighed back before she begrudgingly closed the door giving me one last full-blown smile.

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><p><strong><em>Author's Notes:<em>**

**_* Never Be What You Want by the band We Are The In Crowd is on my pinterest page for this story pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life Both versions are there, the rock and acoustic. Let me know which you like best. _**


	7. Chapter 7: Middle Finger Tendonitis

**_Author's Note: All song lyrics quoted in this story are not truly recorded songs – just my ramblings and my way of giving the reader some insight into Anastasia's mind through either Elliot or Christian's point of view moving forward. They are my own, original, crappy attempts at writing poetry or song lyrics. They suck, I know. Even I laugh at how bad they are, which actually, in my mind is ironic because their songs are supposed to be good and give the band a leg up to more success. I know, I'm a twisted bitch._**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – Middle Finger Tendonitis<strong>

I know for a fact that our little Miss Anastasia baked yesterday before I arrived in Portland with Christian and Taylor. The apartment smelled of chocolate, the mixer was still on the counter, and Ana locked her bedroom door before she headed to the rooftop deck, which means I can't sneak in there and steal one or two like I usually do when she bakes for an event. According to Kate, she baked two-dozen cupcakes for Christian's security team since they watched over her and she felt bad having Reynolds arrested. Lucky fuckers. If they are her quadruple-chocolate decadent, diabetic coma inducing cupcakes I'm going to be pissed – decadent chocolate cake, milk chocolate and peanut butter cream filling, milk chocolate icing, hidden under a thin layer of white chocolate goodness. Hell, I'm gaining five pounds just thinking about them. Last time I ate half a dozen of them in one sitting, no wonder she has them under lock and key.

Ana was not amused that Kate and I had read from her songwriting journal, hence the other reason for the lock on the door. Every so often, Ana goes into her own head and darkness oozes out of her and onto the page providing glimpses of her personal demons residing in the steel cage that is her mind. By every so often, I mean once per month, if you catch my drift. Last month she wrote this little ditty:

**_Depleted_**

_FIRST DRAFT _

**_Verse 1_**

_Dead and buried his voice still haunts me,_

_Waking nightmares destroy my psyche._

_Consumed by evil, regurgitated soul,_

_Demented puppet master forever in control._

_Fractured ego, destroyed by dysfunction,_

_Dead already, there's no injunction._

_Cowering in fear like a shattered mouse,_

_Words devour this crumbling house._

**_Chorus_**

_Broken and battered, but I'm not defeated,_

_In victory I will never be second seeded._

_Lost and tattered, my will depleted,_

_Survived the darkness feeling cheated._

**_repeat chorus_**

**_Verse 2_**

_Paralysis reigns, it's place secure._

_Pathetic, weak, and painfully demure._

_Back and forth, debate consumes me,_

_Dissolution or light, a total quandary._

_Escape and freedom within my grasp,_

_You whisper to me like a poisonous asp._

_Trapped and unworthy, are all I deserve,_

_Defiant and bitter, my life I preserve._

**_Chorus_**

_Broken and battered, but I'm not defeated,_

_In victory I will never be second seeded._

_Lost and tattered, my will depleted,_

_Survived the darkness feeling cheated._

**_repeat chorus_**

So when Kate and I woke up to find Christian and Ana had fallen asleep on the roof deck, we laughed our asses off. We're assholes. It was nice to see both of them relaxed and looking peaceful. We didn't bother waking them up. We figured we'd wait until one hour before graduation because Christian in panic-mode over being late is one long string of barked profanity as he practically rips the hair out of his head. I wanted to catch it on video and post it on YouTube, but I forgot we had to be at the university early because Kate was valedictorian, so we missed the show.

As I wandered around the campus, I couldn't help but laugh as Taylor pulled up in the SUV and Christian all but jumped out as he adjusted his tie. Someone needs to give him a comb because his hair is crazier than normal, but all the ass has to do is run his fingers through it and it magically behaves. Only my little bro can get dead things, like hair, to obey him.

When he arrives over by Kate and the dean of students, I notice Ana and Ray approaching Taylor. She's carrying a small bouquet of three white balloons with a tiny basket hanging under them and a white insulated lunch bag, while Ray is carrying two large white boxes and two smaller boxes of chocolate goodness. I'm drawn toward them like a man dying of thirst to a reservoir. When I arrive, I greet them and watch as she hands Taylor the two large boxes for the security team before opening one of the smaller boxes, that by my guestimate holds half a dozen orgasmic treasures, and places one of the delicacies into the small basket. She hands Taylor the balloons and as requested, he places them in the back seat of the SUV along with the remaining contents of the now open box and the insulated lunch bag.

"What shall I do with these?" she asks smirking at us as she struggles to keep her cap on her head in the breeze. "What are they worth to you Elliot, you naughty boy?"

She's killing me as she opens the last, small box and hands a cupcake to Taylor and another to Ray. "Tell me El, what have you done to deserve one lately? All I see before me is a mischievous eight-year old in a thirty-year old body. Don't you agree gentlemen?" she asks Ray and Taylor, who both smirk and nod in agreement before biting into their cupcake. I'm practically drooling. Yes Ana, revenge is a dish best served cold.

"I had Wanda moved to Seattle earlier this week and she's got a new axle, brakes, and sound system since you will never give your baby up. Besides, you were trying to get to the band, so it's my fault," I try, but the reality is I just wanted that car to be safer. No sooner than the words are out of my mouth does she hand the box to Ray and hug me tightly.

"Thank you Elliot," as she wiped a few tears from her eyes. Wanda and Ana are a team. I have no idea why she's so attached to that ancient hunk of junk, but she is. I know Ray bought it for her during the first year she was at WSU and oddly it came with a handmade cookbook of Latin cuisine recipes. According to Kate, it was Jose Rodriguez's mother's car and cookbook. Apparently Ana and Mrs. Rodriguez got along well and since she didn't have a daughter and the men couldn't cook, she gave Ana her own copy of the Rodriguez family recipes. The only thing I can think of is she's probably associates one with the other, so she'll forever keep both. I know she'll never be close to her own crazy-ass mother, so maybe her friendship with Mrs. Rodriguez made up for that for a while. If that's the case, it's just sad, because the good ones go young and her own mother is like a fucking cockroach, even a fucking silver bullet didn't take the bitch down.

Ana hands me a cupcake and I'm in heaven. She tells the three of us there's one more for each of you before she goes and takes her place with the other graduates. After we each eat our two cupcakes, Taylor heads to stand near the stage, while Ray and I go join the Kavanagh's.

When the windbag dean begins talking my mind drifts back to my conversation with Kate this morning. Apparently the WSU newspaper servers crashed due to the shear volume of people trying to read the article on Christian. You'd think he was a rock star, though according to Kate, he's been unofficially voted Washington State's most fuckable man by college students in a blind poll using just pictures. It's just too fucking weird.

When the dean finally shuts his mouth and introduces my Katie as class valedictorian, journalism club president, newspaper editor, and speaker, I can't help but get on my feet and clap like a mad man. That's my girl! Thankfully Ray and Kate's family join me, along with most of the students. Kate is well known on campus and it feels good seeing her get the recognition she deserves. She's worked her ass off.

I've heard her speech a dozen times in the past two days. She talks about what's next, what we learned over the four years here, and the lessons she's learned about her true friends are. She was witty, bright, sarcastic, and at times over the top. My girl is amazing.

The dean does a major job of kissing Christian's ass as he introduces him. I've heard Christian's standard speech dozens of times. It's inspiring but the reality is, his delivery is always the same – emotionless and devoid of warmth. I watch as Christian heads to the podium and looks out across the students. I swear there was a collective gasp of the female student population. He's like Freddy Mercury at Live Aid. I wonder if he could make them orgasm on command? I know the minute he makes eye contact with Ana because there's a brief smile on his face and his eyes light up. It's a sight to behold. I can't help but smile and wish the rest of my family were here to see him. Finally he begins.

_"I'm profoundly grateful and honored to be conferring degrees today at WSU. Looking out among you, there could be a future Einstein, Currie, Gates, or even a Woodward or Bernstein," _he states before glancing back at Kate and giving her a smile and a nod. Fuck, my brother is human, either that or Ros had Barney tweak his android programming. _"Over the past few years I've watched amazing advances in crop research and environmental science completed not only by the professors, but by members of the student body. The research done by these individuals will have global impact on millions of people, perhaps billions. Crop research is an important cause to me because over one billion people on the planet live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction needs to be addressed globally. I know what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a personal journey for me._

_"I could stand before you and list off amazing accomplishments by the different departments at this very university, but Miss Kavanagh and the amazing team of journalists at the paper have covered that in the graduation issue, so rather than rehash what you've probably read, I encourage you all to look at your fears, doubts, and insecurities, flip them off, and take the leap of faith by being the person you want and deserve to be because the only thing stopping you, is you. It's a lesson I learned quite recently and I'm flipping it off daily to the point of tendonitis in my middle fingers, but the reality is, nothing easy is truly worthwhile. Good luck graduates." _

He takes a step back from the podium to the massive applause of the students, but immediately turns back, smirks and states,_ "Oh and Miss Steele, I stand by my statement that there's nothing wrong with boxed mac and cheese"_ before taking his place near the dean to confer the degrees.

Kate, as valedictorian is presented her degree first, after that it feels like forever until the good dean finally announces Anastasia Steele and she carefully walks across the stage toward Christian. She looks nervous, but not terrified, which is how I expected her to look. I am, however, confused by the envelope in her hand. She accepts her degree from Christian and gives him her best glowing smile as she hands him the envelope and whispers something in his ear. The shit eating grin on Christian's face makes my heart feel lighter. I don't think I've ever seen him grin like that.

I glance over to Taylor, who looks at me and merely shrugs. As Ana heads down the steps near him, her heel catches and she takes a slight tumble right into Taylor's arms. She blushes and says something to him, they laugh, and she heads back toward her seat in the audience. That's my clumsy little sis.

Finally the last student accepts their degree and Christian is about to return to his seat next to Kate, when she takes him by the arm and heads to the podium with the dean on the other side of Christian.

"We, the student body along with the faculty have a small token of our appreciation Mr. Grey," Kate begins with a wicked grin on her face, "for your generosity to our university. In the spirit of giving back, Miss Steele and the editorial staff of the college paper pulled together teams of people and organized something special. Please open the envelope and read the enclosed card for everyone."

I watch as Christian opens the envelope uncertainly. When he pulls out the index card and glances at it, he smiles broadly. "In honor of Christian Trevelyan-Grey, the faculty and students of WSU collected and donated twenty-thousand pounds of non-perishable food items, including boxed macaroni and cheese, to local Vancouver and Portland food banks."

"I'm stunned, honored, and grateful. This is truly amazing," Christian stammers. It's very unlike him to be practically speechless even if it is for just a few seconds. "In the spirit of giving, I'll match the overall donation in each local food bank in both Vancouver and Portland."

I watch as the dean says a few closing words, watch as the graduation caps go flying in the air, and people start to leave their seats. On stage, Christian and Kate are talking and it's civil. Hell, their even smiling and not the type of smile that says: I'm going to fucking kill you when your back is turned maggot. I've stepped into the fucking twilight zone – 1960's _Twilight Zone_, not the fucking vampire movies with the chick whose personality was unceremoniously removed through her ass.

Kate drags Christian, her family, and I to the marquis to schmooze with the faculty and honor students while we swill shitty wine; naturally Jason "The Shadow" Taylor follows. I can't help but laugh as Christian takes a cautious sip of the wine and under his breath mutters something that sounds like _I wouldn't douche my grandfather's dog with that shit, much less drink it_ before using it to kill a nearby potted plant. Fuck that's too funny.

My girl's family are nice enough people, but her parents are boring as all fuck until you get a few shots of hard liquor into them. When Ana and Ray join us a few minutes later, she passes on the wine and shares a coke with her old man. It's hilarious how both her and Christian keep eyeing each other and look down nervously when they inadvertently catch the other one looking. Christian acting shy; that's like him not acting like an arrogant jackass at work – a figment of my imagination, or so I thought.

Kate's father is asking Ana question after question about the interview with Christian. She merely deflects and states that all she did was ask a few questions, discuss art, and explained that my little bro was quite forthright. Frankly, I'm surprised that Kate didn't play the interview recording for her father, but at the same time happy she didn't. It's good to know that she's willing to protect Christian's privacy even though she doesn't care for him.

"It's time for us to head out Annie," Ray informs her. "Your appointment is in thirty minutes."

"Appointment?" I ask.

Ana explains she's going to get the stitches out of her hand, before Ray and her are taking their farewell lunch, junk, and favorite things tour of Portland since the move is Saturday. They invite us all along, but the Kavanagh's have plans and I'm heading with them. I'm surprised when Christian agrees to join Ray and Ana. I glance at Taylor who is nearby and smirk. Taylor, who has a stick permanently wedged up his ass when on-duty merely looks at me impassively, though I swear there is a hint of amusement in his eyes. One day I'm going to take that fucker out drinking and see what resides beneath the military façade. I've always been curious about what makes Christian's security guys tick. Ryan might be part of the band, but when it comes to anything Christian, the cone of silence surrounds him and the conversation is over before it really starts.

There's nothing more amusing for me than watching Christian's expression when Ana takes off her cap and gown, revealing her little purple almost strapless dress. It would be even more amusing is Ethan wasn't practically drooling over her too, but in my mind, he fucked up and it's fortunate that she hasn't kicked him out of the friend zone and out of her life.

As I pretend to pay attention as Kate's father drones on and on about the media business, I really pay more attention to the plans Ray, Ana, and Christian are making – _Pacific Pie Company_ for lunch, _Voodoo Donuts_ for desert, Ana's favorite place -the _Portland Art Museum_ afterward, followed by Ray's favorite place – _Base Camp Brewing Company_, before a late night mini-golf session at _Glowing Greens_. I'd rather be with them than the Kavanagh parentals. I've been to Base Camp with Ray, Ana, and Kate before. It's awesome and their beers are top notch. It's the one place Ana let's her hair down and actually will have a beer or two. She's fucking hilarious with a few beers in her.

Christian agrees to meet Ray and Ana in an hour and a half at her apartment, so they can head out from there once her stitches are out. It gives him a chance to head back to his hotel and change into something more casual. Christian casual is a rarity, but two days in a row? Fuck, my little bro has it bad. I wish Mia was here to see this, but then we'd be deaf from her shrieking with excitement.

Thankfully Kate tells Ana to send her a text when they were heading to Base Camp and we'd meet them there. _WOO-HOO_ is all I could think - beer and drunken mini-golf are an awesome combination. I'm a big kid at heart; after all, I have to be kid enough for two as Christian never allowed himself to be a real kid.

"Ana, do you have a minute before you leave so we can talk?" Ethan asks her. I know him well enough that I can hear the subtle anxiety that's in his voice. Kate merely glares at her brother. He stands no chance in hell with Ana in terms of anything other than friendship.

She nods and follows him to a nearby bench. Once they are seated facing each other, my attention is now devoted to attempting to listen to their conversation. I'm protective of Ana and while I like and trust Ethan, I know he doesn't fully get her the way Kate and I do. Kate, Christian, and Ray's focus has also shifted to the conversation about to take place on that bench.

"I'm sorry about the other day," we hear Ethan inform her. "I've had feelings for you almost since the first day I met you."

Ana sighs sadly before reaching out for his hand. "Ethan, I don't have romantic feelings for you. To me, you are a brother, like Kate is my sister. You know me long enough to know that I don't date. I've got more emotional baggage than Paris Hilton has luggage going away for a weekend."

"Maybe we can work through it together?"

"No," she barely whispers. "Let me ask you something. Why do you like me? I mean really? You realize I'm not a fix up project, right? I may be screwed up but I can stand on my own two feet, albeit shakily at times."

"You're sweet, kind, and I've been struggling with these feelings for years," he counters.

"And in those years, how many different women have you been involved with?" she asks knowingly. "These feelings you think you have aren't real Ethan. Trust me, because if they were, you wouldn't have screwed half of the girls on campus at UCLA. You're a psych major. Just think about it. Besides, the type of emotional attachment you are seeking, I can't give you or anyone else. I just can't. It's beyond me."

We can tell Ethan's frustrated as he rubs his hands over his face and takes a few deep breaths. "You're not willing to try at all?"

"Never. I mean, think about this, would you really want me to try knowing that I don't love you that way and never will. Why should you settle for that? You deserve better than Ethan. You're a great guy," she explains. "Move on Ethan. Don't settle because in the end, if you do, you'll be miserable and your relationship will fail. Why would you want that?"

"I wouldn't."

"I'm sorry," she sighs before getting off the bench and walking away from us. Her expression was unreadable but the moment her back was to us and her distance from us grew, I could see a hint of her shoulders trembling.

A minute later Ray's cell vibrates. After he reads the text, he informs us that Ana is walking to the doctor's office a few blocks away to clear her head. After Ray reconfirms their plans with Christian, he heads out to meet Ana.

Somehow I couldn't help but feel it was going to be a long, boring lunch with the Kavanagh clan followed by an awkward time with Ana afterward. At least Christian looks comfortable and oddly happy.

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><p><strong> END CHAPTER <strong>

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><p><strong><em>NOTE: NEW CHAPTERS OF WILD RIDE, SUBTERFUGE, AND REAL GIRL COMING THIS WEEKEND!<em>**


	8. Chapter 8: Mac & Cheese Challenge

**_Pinterest page for this story has been updated:_**

**_Pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life_**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chapter 8 – Mac &amp; Cheese Challenge<span>**

Admittedly, I'm conflicted. Did I make the right choice accepting Ana and Ray's invitation to join them for the afternoon? It was a spur of the moment decision to do the opposite of what I normally would have done, which was politely decline, head back to my hotel, and bury myself in work even though the only place I wanted to be buried was inside of her. Since the day of the concert and it's aftermath she's had a prominent role in my thoughts outside of work. Part of me wonders if she'd consider becoming my submissive, while the other part of me knows that's single-handedly one of the dumbest thoughts I'd ever had. There is no way she would even consider it; that, and I don't think I could handle it if I inadvertently harmed her in any way.

In hindsight, I'm grateful Elliot and Kate will be joining us at the brewery later I can't believe Anastasia wants to go mini-golfing to end the day. I haven't mini-golfed since I was nine. I hate golf. Is this what normal people her age do, or should I say around our ages, do? Fuck if I know. Right now I feel like I'm treading water and waiting for a rescue. I rarely second guess my decisions, but it's less than five minutes later and the second guessing has begun in earnest.

Taylor opens the rear door as I approach the SUV. When I climb in back, it's impossible not to smile at the three white balloons and the cupcake in sitting in the basket dangling precariously from them. Great minds think alike because yesterday I ordered a bottle of Bollinger with a bunch of white balloons with a large helicopter balloon mixed in to be delivered to Kate and Anastasia's apartment today to celebrate their graduation. Next to me on the seat is a small box with five more cupcakes and an insulated lunch tote. I can't help but unzip the tote and pull the note from inside that simply reads – **_challenge accepted – prepare for defeat Mr. Grey!_** Underneath the note are two small thermal containers, two spoons, and a few napkins.

I open the first container and it's filled with elbow macaroni in an all too familiar, somewhat unnatural-looking, yellow cheese sauce – warm, boxed mac and cheese. I know exactly what it's going to taste like. It's one of the few things I can cook because you boil water, add salt and macaroni, drain, add cheese sauce packet. Gail's mac and cheese is awesome, but I'll settle for this. It's a texture and comfort thing for me. It's something that has been in my life as long as I can remember, even before being adopted. I take a heaping spoonful and as usual, enjoy it. It's soothing.

Cautiously, I open the second container and peer inside. I expected macaroni in some shape but was surprised to see wide, egg noodles coated in a thick, creamy white sauce with crumbled bacon on top. White sauce? What the fuck! I scoop a small spoonful and examine it before finally putting the spoon into my mouth. It's heavenly – warm, ridiculously creamy, buttery, with hints of shallot and garlic. Whatever the blend of cheeses used is amazing – I can taste sharp cheddar, a hint of Parmesan, Gouda, and Gruyere, but that's definitely not all. Hands down it's the most flavorful macaroni and cheese I've ever had, but there's no macaroni in it. Who would have thought to use egg noodles? They just add to the decadence of what is probably a thousand calories in a half a cup. If Anastasia makes this regularly, how is she still waif-like as opposed to being as big as a house?

In two minutes, the contents of the homemade container have been devoured. It doesn't matter than in just over an hour I'm going to lunch. That was too delicious not to eat every last bite while it was warm. I can't help but smile as I grab my phone, call Elliot for her number, then send Anastasia Steele a text that states: _You win. Your mac & cheese is better. Now you'll have to make it for me whenever I want as you've ruined the boxed version forever._

A minute later I receive a text back from her that simply states – _Enjoy loserville Mr. Grey! _Followed by a demonic smiley face emoji. I can't help but grin at it.

The cupcake swaying with the motion of the SUV is now dangling before me. I never eat in the car, but apparently today I'm breaking all my rules. When I pull the cupcake out of the basket and remove it's silver-toned paper cup all I smell is chocolate. One bite and I'm a goner – different types and textures of chocolate icing, coupled with milk chocolate-peanut butter filling, and moist chocolate cake. I can't help but groan as I take another bite. Taylor chuckles from the front seat.

"Would you like a cupcake when we get to the hotel Taylor?" I ask to be polite. Honestly, I don't want to give up one crumb of any of them.

He laughs. "I ate two before the ceremony with Elliot and Ray Steele. I have two-dozen in boxes up here for the security team. Mrs. Jones is in Portland visiting her sister and she's heading back tonight, so she agreed to take them to Sawyer at Grey House. Naturally I demanded she save me a few."

There's something genuinely likable about Miss Anastasia Steele. Once she gets past her shyness, she's honest, funny, forthright, and if she says she's going to do something, she does it. I thought she was politely joking about making me macaroni and cheese and cupcakes, but here they are. She's beautiful both outside and in. She's seems so innocent even though I know she's lived through a nightmare that's scarred her emotionally. I can relate. She handled Ethan Kavanagh well, letting him down easy. Is it wrong that I felt overjoyed at that fact? I did. I can now understand Elliot's attachment to her, because I feel similarly.

At the hotel I took a quick shower before I changed into jeans, t-shirt and chucks. I still had twenty minutes to go before heading to Anastasia's apartment. I know I'm heading toward a new experience as I attempt to cast aside what I know my life to be and try to be the person I was born to be – _ordinary_. I can walk into a room with hundreds, even thousands of people, and present business proposals, but being ordinary? What the fuck is ordinary? I'm at a complete and total loss. This afternoon and evening are a potentially a disaster in the making. After pacing the hotel suite for a few minutes, I grab my cell phone and dial Flynn's private line.

"Well hello Christian," he greets me and I can already hear the mirth in his voice.

"John."

"What can I do for you? That was quite the compelling article on you in today's paper. How did it feel to be categorized as ordinary?" the smartass asks.

I can't help but chuckle to hide my anxiety. I should have expected this from John. "It was pretty ordinary actually." Just asking him my next question is uncomfortable. "Honestly, I didn't know what to make of the article. I was flattered, humbled, and an entire host of other emotions I don't completely understand, but it all boils down to the fact that I liked the idea of being ordinary. Does that make any sense?"

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to be part of the ordinary crowd Christian. The interviewer was insightful and clearly walked away learning not just about you, but also about themselves. The emotions you don't understand probably stem from some subconscious inner battle between the part of you that is consumed by self-loathing and the other part that wants to feel like they are part of something emotionally," he explains. "The big question is, what's your next step?"

I sigh before explaining about the concert, talking more to Elliot, seeing Kate for what she is – a strong woman who is a decent person, and finally about Anastasia. I know I'm rambling, which is unusual for me, but I tell him how she was the interviewer, the actual interview details, about last night just sitting on the rooftop deck chatting all night, graduation, the mac and cheese challenge, how she keeps her promises, and finally getting ready to spend the day with her and her father celebrating her graduation.

"It seems strange to say this, but I feel comfortable with her. There's no worrying that she's after my money or status, or even after my attention. She's just Anastasia and when we're together, I'm just Christian. I forget about work, the past, and everything that haunts me every waking hour of every day."

I pause for a moment to gather my thoughts before continuing. "So her father is nice enough. He's ex-military. He invited all of us to join them for lunch and activities this afternoon. I was going to say no, but decided to step outside my comfort zone. I have to meet them in a few minutes but I realize I don't have a clue what ordinary really is. I mean, the plans seem normal enough, but do people my age still go miniature golfing? Damned if I know, but I'm going after we hit a local brewery with Elliot and Kate."

I can hear John failing to stifle his laugh. I'm not offended, we've known each other too long. I knew he'd find this amusing. "I don't pay you to laugh John."

He's now laughing so hard he snorts. "Then don't be a comedian. And for the record, I'm in my forties and Rhian and I go a few times a year to mini-golf without the kids for fun. There is no right and wrong when it comes to mini-golf and age appropriateness. It's about enjoying yourself and the company you take with you. It's a chance to let your hair down, laugh, and even be silly."

"So you're saying?" I can't help but ask.

"Just go with the flow Christian. Embrace the new, yet ordinary, experiences. You're twenty-seven, not seventy, though I've seen older couples at the mini-golf course. Forget about everything and just allow yourself to enjoy the day. Live in the moment."

Thirty minutes later I'm standing outside the door of Anastasia's apartment. I gave Taylor the rest of the day off so he could spend it with Gail and her family, since she was in Portland visiting her sister. Reluctantly Taylor left me to fend for myself. It felt odd, yet liberating. After taking a deep breath, I knock at the door.

When Anastasia opens the door she takes my breath away. Her long, wavy brown hair is loose with the front in a French braid that is wrapped around to the back of her head like an organic brown wreath revealing the miniscule differences in the natural shades of brown in her hair when the sunlight hits it through the window. She's wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a bright purple _Beatles Let It Be_ t-shirt that hugs every curve. She's absolutely stunning and sexy as all hell. Is it wrong that I want her to wear a sweater so no one else can see or desire her?

"Welcome back," she smiles up at me shyly. Her bright blue eyes are mesmerizing and at times when the light hits them just right reveal a hint of violet. I've never seen eyes that color before. "Come on in. Thank you for the champagne and balloons. It's funny how we both went with white balloons, though the helicopter is my favorite. It's already safely locked away in my bedroom tied to my bed so Kate can't take it. She and Elliot enjoy sucking the helium out of balloons then singing chipmunk songs when they have a few drinks."

All I can think as I enter the apartment is _lucky fucking Charlie Tango balloon_. Thankfully I find myself a bit at a loss for words. I'd say I'm outside my comfort zone, but the reality is I'm outside the galaxy in which my comfort zone resides. "Next time they do that, tape it with your phone. I need blackmail material on my brother."

"That won't work. He's already posted their helium exploits on their social media sites. He has no shame whatsoever. It's what makes Elliot, Elliot," she laughs.

"He's definitely one of a kind," I reply uncomfortably and deep down, in some ways I could be more like him. It's ironic that we are so different – he's so comfortable and secure in who he is, while I'm just … never mind brain, don't go there.

She's tilting her head as she looks at me. I'm familiar with that look from watching her with Elliot and experiencing it first-hand myself – she's trying to figure something out. "Are you okay?" she asks meekly.

I sigh and nod. "I guess you can say I'm a bit outside my comfort zone."

She giggles at me and I can feel myself begin to relax. She explains she knows that feeling all too well and one day would get even with Elliot for his attempts to knock him out of hers. "I've been working on a song parody called _Man – Boy – Whore_ about Elliot. Hopefully I'll get it finished one day. Ryan said he'd help me set it to music, so the band can blindside Elliot with it. Elliot mentioned that you tend to work pretty much day and night. I'm glad you decided to join us. As much as I hate to admit it, both he and Kate have been quite proficient at expanding my comfort bubble. It will be nice to have company for a change."

"Where's your father?"

"He's tanking up his truck. He's only going to be here long enough to have one drink with us at the brewery," she explains grabbing her purse and keys from the kitchen counter. "He should be downstairs waiting by now. Let's go as I can hear at least one Spinach and Feta Pastie calling my name."

As we head down the steps toward the building lobby, with me walking before her, she lightly tugs on the shoulder of my shirt. I stop and turn my attention her way. With her standing two steps higher than me, we are practically looking eye to eye. "Forewarned, Ray loves his fly fishing. If you can steer him onto other topics, like the Seahawks or Mariners, it would be greatly appreciated. If he starts with mortifying Ana stories from my childhood, I will bake you a batch of cupcakes or make you mac and cheese once a week for a year to get a new topic started."

I can't help it. I chuckle at her and she lightly flicks me in the nose with her index finger. "Not nice Mr. Grey."

"All you're doing Anastasia is making me want to hear the stories."

"You're as exasperating as Elliot sometimes," she sighs. "Just remember, your big brother has an even bigger mouth. I'll learn all of the embarrassing secrets of your youth from him. Turn about is fair play after all," she teases as she runs past me and down the steps.

When we get outside, she climbs into the back seat of a massive, silver Chevy Avalanche and motions for me to climb into the front passenger seat, telling me through the now open window that after the museum, we'd double back for his car. I imagine this is what Elliot would do, so I climb in and greet Ray. I know I'm a car snob, but I actually like being high up in the truck. It's more luxurious than I anticipated it being. Oddly, it feels safer. Who'd have thought?

As he guides the truck into traffic, I can't help but turn and give Anastasia a glance and smirk before asking Ray about one particular hobby of his. "I hear you are a fan of fly fishing. My dad took us with him fly fishing as soon as we learned to swim."

Ray and I discuss fly fishing all the way to the restaurant, causing Anastasia to kick the back of my chair each time her father stopped talking long enough to draw another breath. I can't help but glance back at her and smirk.

This continues even as we head toward our table at the Pacific Pie Company. Once we are seated, we order starters of assorted Mini Pasties, Mini Sausage rolls with beer mustard, and Moroccan Spiced Lamb Meatballs. Ray and I each order a Cooper's Pale Ale, while Anastasia orders an alcohol-free Ginger Beer. Over appetizers we discuss the Mariners, the Seahawks, and Anastasia's precious Seattle Sounders. By the time we order main courses, Anastasia's pronounced herself just about full, causing Ray to roll his eyes at her.

"Annie, has always eaten like a bird," Ray explains unhappily. "I swear if she could, she'd live on English Breakfast Tea, granola, and literature."

"Dad!" Ana snaps at him with crimson cheeks. The glare she's giving him is almost humorous. No matter how hard she tried, I don't think she could actually look mean or intimidating. "I eat, you know I do dad."

"One veggie pastie, a lamb meatball, and a mini sausage roll isn't a meal," he snaps back.

I can't help but agree with him, which earns me her trademark glare. I couldn't stop the chuckle from escaping my lips.

"Not nice Mr. Grey."

"Then order for something for lunch and we'll try to behave," I counter with a knowing smirk at Ray.

"You'll try? Master Yoda said _do or do not, there is no try_."

"How about if he does one and I do the other," Ray counters as the waiter approaches for the rest of our order. It feels good double-teaming her with Ray. God, even as I thought that it sounded all manner of perverse. I can't help but wonder if just letting my walls down a bit, also lowers any mental filter I might have. I mean I expect thoughts like that from Elliot. I mean, he verbalizes them all the fucking time no matter who's around. This doesn't feel quite like me, but it doesn't feel wrong either. It's something to ponder later.

Ray and I order a Cottage Pie and Shepherd's Pie respectively, while Anastasia orders a small Caesar salad, proclaiming she needs to save room for Voodoo Donuts. Over the next hour Ray and I tease Ana unmercifully over her eating habits, choices of books, and her hockey skills. It turns out Elliot had Kate record him trying to teach her to skate and the alleged shot on goal from center ice and sent it to Ray. He brought the video up on his phone and I have to admit, it was hilarious watching her practically knock Elliot unconscious. Honestly the best part was watching Elliot instinctively reach to protect his balls, but he bent over so he got hit in his head instead – well his other head.

By the time we leave Pacific Pie we are stuffed and decide to postpone Voodoo Donuts until after our next stop, which after taunting her becomes the Sherwood Arena, an indoor ice hockey rink because little Miss Anastasia Steele is annoyed at us and determined to not only skate her way to center ice, but to hit that _damned puck_ as she called it into the fricking net thingie – I wonder if that's the new technical term. She was adorable when she was determined, so much so that the art museum would wait for another day. In the back of my mind, I made a mental note to invite her to the Seattle Museum of Art once she moved. The love of art is something we share.

Watching Ray help her lace up her size six skates, followed by pads was amusing. If you add a scarf and hoodie she'd look like that little, overdressed kid from _A Christmas Story_. She was lucky she could move right now, much less skate. I quickly follow her lead and pull on skates and pads. I'm not letting her even attempt to get on the ice on her own. I saw the video. There's no way she's going to pull this off.

As she slowly walks toward the rink I follow, while Ray pulls out his cell phone and begins recording – for posterity he says. Like Elliot, I've skated before. We played ice hockey for two seasons when we were kids. I loved it because you could body check someone and get away with it. The more physical the sport, the more I enjoyed playing it. Both of our hockey seasons ended when one of our friends had his four front teeth out, so our mother put her foot down. It was one of the few times we witnessed her do this with our father and we knew instantly that he had no chance of winning the argument. Dr. Grace Treveylan-Grey may be calm, cool, and collected, but when she gets a certain look in her eye, we all know there's no point in arguing. That next Saturday, Dad snuck us out to I-Hop while she was at work and explained that when your mother makes that face it means, _fuck no_, so it forever became her _'fuck no face'_. Naturally Elliot got grounded for asking if she also had a corresponding _'fuck yes face'_.

There was nothing more amusing than watching Anastasia Steele take her first cautious steps onto the ice with a hockey stick in one hand and a puck in the other. All I did was stand at her side and keep pace, if you could call it that, because the very first time she tried to move, her feet came out from under her and on her way down she tugged on my shirt and I landed on top of her as our helmets crashed into each other.

"Are you okay?" I asked not moving from atop her soft body.

She laughed hysterically as I finally stood up and put out my hand for her to take it. As I pulled her up, she went right back down, unable to find her footing. At least this time I didn't go down with her. "Come on trouble," I state with a chuckle before I throw her over my shoulder, grab her hockey stick and puck, before skating out to center ice. This is going to be an unmitigated disaster. At least she's still laughing and it makes me feel lighthearted.

As Elliot did before me, I set her feet on the ice but where he let her go, I grabbed the back of her jeans to keep her upright. Once I positioned the puck on the ice, I handed her the hockey stick. "Don't try to swing the stick like you are trying to hit a homerun at Safeco Field, just pretend you are putting at mini-golf but swing just a bit harder."

She nods. Her face is the picture of concentration from what I can see from my vantage point. Her first attempt goes all of twenty feet. "Hey at least you are still standing," I comment before pulling another puck from my pocket and placing it on the ice. "Again, this time a bit harder."

Her second attempt stops just before the net, which leaves her so excited she forgets she's on skates and tries to hop excitedly, only to slip and fall onto me. This time I go down with her on top of me – her back to my front. We're both winded, but we're laughing. Finally she rolls off me and onto her hands and knees before crawling toward the rink exit.

"Where are you going?" I ask as I get up and slowly head toward her.

She giggles and blushes before informing me that she landed on the keys in my pocket so her butt hurts; she has a wedgie because when I went down I was holding her pants from behind and inadvertently had her lacy underwear also in hand; and if she doesn't fine the restroom shortly, she's going to wet herself from too much ginger beer. After I stop laughing at her, I pick her up, threw her over my shoulder again, and hauled her off the ice like a sack of potatoes so she could make her best attempt at running to the ladies room in skates. All I could think was, good luck getting the gear off in time to not have an accident.

When she emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later, she declines my invite for a return to the ice, stating she'd rather overload on sugar and allow her backside to recover. _Voodoo Donuts_ it is then. This is where I capture my first real glimpse of her insatiable lust for sweets. Great, I'm envious of a donut. When we walk into the place, her eyes light up. I swear just breathing the air in here makes me feel like I need a shot of insulin. Anastasia, well she's just glowing.

She might weigh less than one hundred pounds soaking wet, but she orders herself three donuts – the _Voodoo Donut_, the _Mango Tango_, and _Cock-N-Balls Donut_ along with a cup of tea. I kid you not, that's a real donut. Ray orders a _Lemon Chiffon Crueller_ and coffee, while I opt for the _Apple Fritter Donut_ and coffee.

I'd never seen anyone eat a donut by cutting each into bite-sized pieces with a knife. Her donut choices were interesting – the _Voodoo Donut_ looked like a chocolate ghost, whom she beheaded first; the _Mango Tango_ was a typical donut, but the _Cock-N-Balls_ looked pretty accurate all things considered. When she circumcised it, for lack of a better word, she blushed profusely. It was adorable. She ate each, piece-by-piece with her dainty fingers, savoring each and every bite. Any time she ate a piece with filling, I could have sworn she moaned softly. Honestly, it was truly erotic watching her because those plump lips were driving me mad. As she ate each morsel my attention was once again drawn back to those pouty, full lips. I thought I would have to get up and leave when she got mango filling on her finger and sucked it off. I could feel my pants tightening every time she did it. I wish I could have recorded her eating the donuts for later. I swear I could make millions selling it as food pornography, not that I would ever share it. When she takes the last piece of the mango donut and sucks her finger sadly because it's done, I just about explode in my pants. Holy shit that was single-handedly the fucking hottest thing I'd ever seen.

As we head out of the donut shop, all I could think was maybe being ordinary really isn't that bad after all.


	9. Chapter 9: The Ordinary Mr Grey

**Chapter 9 – The Ordinary Mr. Grey**

After Anastasia's virtual orgasm by donut, Ray took me back to her apartment to get the SUV. I then follow them to Base Camp Brewing. Thankfully it's not a long ride. I actually miss their company. Ana's adorable and Ray is just a great, down-to-earth guy who adores his precious daughter. It's nice to be able to turn my brain and suspicious nature off and allow myself to really relax and not worry about someone wanting to be around me for my money or position.

At Base Camp Brewing we get a corner table after taking a tour of the brewery and hit the store. Ray laughs as Ana checks out with an hoodie that's the same one I'd purchased while she was in the ladies room. When I see her head toward the table, I notice the hoodie she purchased is over-sized and makes her look even smaller than she is. She could practically wear it as a dress. Is it wrong that I'm sitting here picturing her wearing nothing but the hoodie and I get to take it off her?

We each order a special sampler tray of all their offerings in two-ounce portions; ten shots in all. I can't help but glance over at Ana, who is smiling longingly down at the darkest brew. When our eyes meet, she smirks and innocently asks, "What?" before explaining that it's her favorite – _Smores Stout_. Figures. It's named after a sugary treat.

Amusingly, our conversation around the table concerns Ana's love of sweets, how even as a small child she ate her donuts in the same way she does now, only now that she's twenty-one it's more embarrassing. Ray shakes his head in disapproval because try as he might, he can't convince her that it wasn't lady-like, but inappropriately erotic. I could sit here all day and watch them argue over this topic. It's hilarious watching the shock on her crimson face, yet she continues to argue. When she turns to me for the deciding vote, I'm shocked.

"I'm sorry Ana, but watching you eat donuts is the single hottest thing I've ever seen," I laugh. "You're lucky Elliot wasn't there. You can only imagine the comments he'd make."

"Comments I'd make on what?" Elliot asks with a smirk as he slaps me on the shoulder.

"Voodoo Donuts," I counter.

"Well fuck me," he laughs as he and Kate join us. "You got the full Anastasia Steele orgasm by donut show then? Did she suck her fingers and every guy within a twenty foot radius cum in his pants?"

"See," Ray scolds her. "I told you not to eat donuts that way anymore. When you were little it was cute. Now it's just plain wrong on so many levels."

"Told you," Kate laughs at her friend. "No wonder Ethan and Jose want to get into your panties."

"New topic please," Ana snaps at us. "Perhaps we can think of more fun names for Charlie Tango."

"Cock Tease," Elliot laughs.

"Cat Testicles," is Kate's retort

"Centrifugal torsion," I counter bitterly as Charlie Tango is probably my most precious possession.

"Cable tie," Ana laughs. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to remember she works at a hardware store and doesn't mean deviate way I enjoy using them.

"Clumsy Tutor," Ray adds with a smirk. I can't help but feel he's referring to Ana.

"Clammy tits," Elliot mutters and Ana blushes. Ray just chuckles. He's ex-military, so he's heard it all and I imagine Ana's heard quite a bit over the years if he's anything like my security team.

"Crazy tramp," Kate follows.

"Cute Tushie," Ana giggles.

"Camouflaged Tranquility," I counter, to which Elliot and Kate mutter _'boring'_ under their breaths.

"God help me," Ray laughs, "Camel Toe."

At that Ana losses it and buries her crimson face in her hands. "Dad!"

"Chicken Turd," Ray offers as a consolation. I get it. Ray's ex-military, so he's heard it all. Heck, he reminds me of an older version of Taylor with a hint of Sawyer and Reynold's senses of humor. It's the reason those two and Ryan get along so well with Elliot. Maybe Elliot has been right all along. I need to get the stick, or caber as he puts it, out of my ass and relax. Easier said than done, though tonight and last night have been exceedingly relaxing.

Leave it to Elliot to end the competition with the simple phrase_, Cunthole Triathlon_. Kate laughed, Ray blushed and laughed, Ana just about died of embarrassment, and I think I just sat there in shock before grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Too far Elliot," Ray scolded him much like he did Ana a few moments ago. Still, I could see the mirth and begrudging approval in Ray's eyes when he glanced at my brother. The pretend scolding was for Ana's benefit.

Leave it to Elliot to not be the least bit embarrassed. Glancing over at Ray, I can see that he appears accustomed to being around my brother's harmless vulgarity. As more beer was served, this time Ana limited herself to an elegant glass of her Smores Stout, which she slowly nursed. I was surprised to learn Elliot spent a decent amount of time with Ray Steele in the past year. When Ana would get annoyed at Elliot, she'd go home to Montesano to avoid him on weekends, but he'd just show up with Kate and spend the weekend there too. Annoying prick, yet I can't help but make a mental note to not allow her to run away after a confrontation. Perhaps tonight would be educational with regard to the delectable, innocent, and perplexing Miss Steele.

I also found out where Elliot had the custom king-sized bed made for my parents last anniversary. He'd told them he was replacing their bed with his own hands, which lead to them popping by his construction office and workshop frequently only to find nothing. It turns out that Elliot worked on it in Ray's shop in Montesano to keep it a secret. Ray and Elliot even built the custom cabinets and closet organizers that went into kitchen of Kate and Ana's new condo in Seattle.

It was odd seeing Elliot pretty much integrated into a second family. According to Ray, Elliot was the _'unofficial Steele'_ or as Ray sometimes called him, _rotten egs_; with the egs being misspelled standing for Elliot Grey-Steele.

"The name is fitting," Anastasia giggled, "as we never know when Elliot is going to go all Vesuvius on us and spew sulfur."

"Amen sister," Kate laughs.

Listening to Ray and Elliot talking about their Montesano misadventures involving carpentry, hiking, fishing, and volunteering on different charity builds together shocked me. I couldn't help but wonder how Elliot ended up with Kate and not with Ana. He has everything in common with Ray. I don't.

After a second beer, Ray announced it was time to head home as he had a two and a half hour drive ahead of him and an early start in the morning. Before he left, he gave Kate a massive hug, shook Elliot's hand and at the same time smacked him in the back of his head as he informed him to watch over his girls and behave, and he shook my hand before inviting me to Montesano fly fishing any time I needed to escape the rigors of real life. "Come on Annie. Walk your old man to his truck."

I watched as Ana wrapped her arm around her father's waist and they headed toward the door laughing together. Ray Steele is an exceptional father. There's no missing that Anastasia adores him, as do Kate and Elliot. Slowly I'm beginning to accept that the pushing the three of them are doing to get Ana outside of her comfort zone is a good thing. I can't help but feel the quiet, bookworm I first saw sitting on the concrete reading at the heliport was Ana in her safe zone, but the Anastasia I witnessed last night and today is remarkable. She's intelligent, funny, mischievous, and sexy as all hell.

Elliot excuses himself and heads toward the rest room, leaving me along with Kate. I was prepared for uncomfortable silence, but she surprised me.

"Thank you for spending time with Ana. It's good for her to get to know and grow comfortable with new people," Kate comments wistfully. "She's been very closed off since I've known her. We hit it off right away but she doesn't allow people in very often. It's like she has a fear of getting attached, yet she took to you right away, so thank you for not being, well, you – the stern businessman with her. I worry about her sometimes."

I'm at a loss with regard to a response. Finally, after another sip of my beer and a moment of awkward silence, I organize my thoughts. "I think this has been a learning experience for me too. Honestly, this is probably the most relaxed and carefree I've ever been. I can't help but wonder if I've done pretty much the same as Ana and locked myself away to focus on business and avoided attachments."

"You know Elliot worries about you, right?"

I nod uncertain how to proceed in these uncharted waters. Thankfully Kate cuts me some slack as she grins mischievously and asks me, "So Mr. Grey, are you gay?"

I can't help but bust out laughing. "After watching Ana eat the donuts, I can safely say if I were before, I'm not now."

We're both laughing hysterically when Elliot returns to the table with Ana in his arms. Her cheeks are crimson from what we can see as her hands cover her face and all she can do it mutter _'oh my god, oh my god, how mortifying'_ over and over again.

"What happened?" Kate asks as she gets to her feet to help Ana sit down. I'd be concerned but the shit-eating grin on Elliot's face prevents me from over-reacting.

"Let's just say, Ana plus beer equals a trip into the wrong restroom. Our Miss Steele has seen her first ever, live penis and it was above average in both length and girth."

"Oh my god," Ana stammers. "At least it wasn't yours Elliot."

All I could think of was that it was her first glimpse of a live penis? Anastasia is a virgin? How is that possible? She's gorgeous, sweet, funny, and kind. It makes no sense. She has men falling over themselves to garner her attention. The overwhelming urge to get away from this innocent woman and not contaminate her with my fucked up world has my head spinning.

"Ana stop," I hear Elliot snap at her as she chugs what amounts to three quarters of her third high alcohol content stout without stopping.

"How the hell is that thing supposed to fit there?" Ana whispers before blushing yet again. "I mean, holy crap, that thing was ginormous."

Elliot and Kate laugh. "Allow me to explain it to you in terms you can understand," Elliot chuckles. "A vagina is like a Tardis, it's bigger on the inside."

"Yeah but that must be one heck of an uncomfortable trip through the door," she giggles almost falling off her chair. The three of us glance at each other and laugh as Kate and Elliot get Ana more stable in her chair. "That thing is never coming near me. Nope. Never. Let's get out of here and go mini-golfing. Just knowing that massive cyclops is in this place is giving me the creeps."

Elliot and I glance at each other before I pull out my wallet and settle the tab, telling him he can pay for golf if he wants to do so. The trip to the mini-golf course felt strange. I'm not used to having a woman in the car, yet there sat Anastasia Steele, half-toasted from beer, giggling as she played with the radio. Normally that would annoy the crap out of me, but her taste in music is eclectic. When she undoes her seatbelt and gets on her knees in her seat to reach over to my visor for the CDs, I just about lose it; though the fact that her pert breasts are pushed against my shoulder as she reached for the CDs was a perk.

"Sit down and buckle up," I snap at her.

She does so, but not without doing an impression of me _'sit down and buckle up'_ she mutters with mock offense. "You are so adorable when you get snippy," she tells me with a giggle.

I can't help but roll my eyes at her and laugh. "Whatever happened to the quiet, shy, nervous girl I picked up a few days ago in my helicopter?"

She giggled hysterically. "You're Elliot's brother. I trust you. Well that and I'm feeling quite liberated right now. It's a nice change from _uptight Annie_, as Elliot and Kate sometimes calls me."

"How did you earn that nickname?" I can't help but ask as she closes her eyes, reclines her seat, and rests her feet on the dashboard after kicking off her shoes.

"Oh that's a long story Mr. Grey, but the short version is irrational fear," she whispers.

"Of what?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she mumbles as she curls up on the chair facing me.

"I thought you trusted me," I can't help but give her another verbal nudge as I glance over at her since we are at a traffic light. Her big blue eyes are gazing up at me appraisingly now.

"Happiness and having it ripped away," she sighs.

"I don't follow," I tell her, but the reality is, I think I do to some extent.

"It's the only way I can protect those I care about," she whispers. Her blue eyes appear almost haunted as she stares into mine. "Even though he's dead, it's not over. It will never be over."

"If someone who wants to harm you is dead, how can it not be over?"

She shrugs and closes her eyes once again as the light changes. The rest of the way to Glowing Greens was in oddly comfortable silence, even though our brief conversation was serious. When we finally arrive at the venue, I'm shocked to see a large, colorful pirate statue at the entrance. I couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't a place for ten year olds, not adults and certainly not me.

Inside it's an over the top, full-blown, neon, pirate themed mini-golf course set to black light. Looking around I see skeletons on surfboards, tropical fish, treasure chests, and underwater structures – all surrounded by neon lights. It's almost as if someone threw up neon all over the place, yet all together it held appeal. I couldn't help but feel younger in here, even though I fought it tooth and nail. Elliot, who is thirty but in general acted like he was twenty, has now reverted to a ten year old. The mirth on his face was contagious. We were all grinning from ear-to-ear as we teed up I couldn't help but wonder if it was the location, the alcohol we consumed prior to arriving, or the company.

We played eighteen holes, laughing and taunting each other the entire time in an effort to get the others to miss shots. One thing that surprised me was that little Miss Steele could not be thrown off her game, regardless of what we did to her. We tried it all – taunts, tossing rolled up napkins at her, Elliot took a sip from his water bottle and threatened to spit water at her, hell, we even screamed in her ear as she putted after recruiting a group of small kids to help. She was competitive and won virtually every hole. Surprisingly Elliot took second place, while Kate and I tied for last place.

Honestly, I don't want this evening to end. It's after nine p.m., I'm relaxed, and enjoying the day more than I ever thought I would. Flynn was right, I just needed to allow myself to relax and go with the flow. As we're driving back to the girl's apartment, my phone rings and I answer it on hands-free with Ana by my side.

"Dinner you two? I need real food, not the frou-frou crap we ate with Kate's family," Elliot's voice booms through the speaker.

"You forgot the kitchen at the apartment is pretty much all packed up for the move in thirty-six hours," Ana reminds him.

"You two stop at the grocers and get the ingredients for a Grey-burger barbeque, while Kate and I grab beer and fire up the rooftop grill," Elliot orders. "One final grilling before we say goodbye to the Kavanagh deck of death and mystery."

Ana glances at me for approval. I can't help but smile and nod. "We're in," she replies before ending the call.

"Care to explain the Kavanagh deck of death and mystery?" I ask wondering if it's a safety issue or if something horrible happened there.

"I met Kate in our first class at WSU and we hit it off. At the end of our first semester, she was unhappy in the dorms, so her father bought her the apartment and we moved into it together with my housing stipend helping pay my share of the expenses and utilities," Ana explains. "At the time, I had no idea who Kate's father was, but learned all too quickly about the issues some wealthy people have. Kate and I met for lunch almost every day at a nearby park to study. It was our outdoor space. Apparently there was a threat at Kavanagh Media against her family in the first few months we were in the apartment. When the person making the threat was apprehended on campus at WSU, her father forbid us to lunch at the park anymore. That was the day I became an honorary Kavanagh. When we got home after classes, discretely followed by her father's security, her father was up on the roof of the apartment with the building owner and a construction crew. He purchased the rights to the roof, had the deck custom built including the outdoor kitchen and everything we could ever need. The only key with rooftop access is the key to our apartment, so it became our outdoor space.

"Over the past three years we've held fundraisers up there in the form of murder mysteries, luau's, and even ridiculous zombie parties. Everyone has a pet cause. Yours is to feed the world, mine is literacy, and Kate's is to end domestic violence, so all proceeds from our fundraisers went toward shelters to protect women and children," she explains.

"How did Kate get involved with domestic violence charities?" I can't help but ask. Was it something with her family or someone else?

"It's not my story to tell," she explains as she guides me toward the parking lot of the organic grocer two blocks from the apartment. As she got out of the SUV, she turned to me, smiles, and informs me that we weren't getting the ingredients for Elliot's Grey-burgers as the last time they were all sick from eating them. I have to admit, I feel relieved because I know my brother can't boil water, much less cook no matter how much he tries to convince me otherwise.

As we walk around the grocery store, I can't help but look around in wonder. I don't think I'd been to a grocery store since I was seven. It's amazing just to stop and look at the shelves to analyze the product placement. I feel a slight electric charge as Ana takes my hand and gives me a gentle tug. "Come on little boy Grey," she laughs, "I know this must be new for you, but the store closes in fifteen minutes."

She assigns me the task of pushing the small cart, while she places items inside it explaining along the way - boneless chicken thighs for Sambal Chicken Skewers; large shrimp and fresh Andouille sausage for Cajun skewers; corn on the cob and fresh asparagus for our sides; flatbread; and finally we grab bananas, chocolate sprinkles, and whipped cream for desert.

"No ice cream?" I can't help but ask.

"I've got a quart in the freezer at home along with Maraschino cherries," she explains as she grabs paper plates, bowls, and plastic forks. Once we check out at the grocery store, she heads next door to the Asian restaurant and buys a container of hot, cooked brown rice.

Back at the apartment, we carry our purchases to the kitchen. I watch as Ana digs through her purse for her iPod and places it on the dock. The now all to familiar sounds of Sick Puppies acoustic versions of their hit songs begin to play. Just watching Ana sway and sing along to the music as she works around the kitchen preparing everything for the grill is relaxing. She even has me slice the sausage into chunks and wrap the shrimp around them before adding them to skewers and sprinkling them with Cajun seasoning. It feels so normal to be here doing this with her. She's a natural in the kitchen and for someone so shy, it's the first time where she appears really comfortable in her own skin.

We head up to the deck with the trays of food for the grill, her iPod, and the bottle of Bollinger I'd sent earlier with four teacups. Teacups? Really? I'm just going to follow her lead as their wine glasses were already packed. For the next three hours we grill, eat, laugh, drink, play games, and even sing a few songs as Elliot plays the guitar and Ana the keyboard. Elliot's right, his girl can't sing.

The one game I really enjoyed was a simple download on Elliot's phone called _Heads Up!_ It reminded me of the old game show Password or Pyramid, where one person holds the phone against their forehead revealing a clue, while the others gave that person clues as to what it was. Once one item was correctly solved or they guesser passed another item appeared in this timed game. I have to admit, I was awful at the categories involving television or movies, but otherwise I did better than I thought I would, though I think the Bollinger and a few more beers really helped. Elliot and Kate clearly saw too many movies, as they owned those categories, while Ana owned anything to do with books and animals. My categories of dominance were Bad Behavior and Sports Legends.

It was an amazing day and night. My brain is racing as the four of us clean up the deck for the night. All my life I've denied myself this type of normal interaction. This is something I know I need to discuss in depth with Flynn. I mean, how could I deny myself these experiences my entire life? Elliot has always pushed me to spend time with him and his friends, yet I've always passed on the outings, electing to focus on building GEH or spending time with my subs. I now understand why Elliot makes sure he doesn't work fourteen-hour days. He surrounds himself with people he can trust at Grey Construction, works hard, but makes sure he has time for what matters. Maybe it's time I try to follow my big brothers example. Easier said than done. I can see it's going to be a multiple session week with Flynn.

As the night ends, I once again find myself at their apartment door with Ana. Kate and Elliot have already turned in for the night. "Thank you for inviting me today. I had a wonderful time. It was enlightening."

Her response was two-fold, a shy yet sexy smile reserved just for me, and a hug, which feels wonderful. To my surprise, I didn't stiffen or over-react unless you count becoming aroused as an over-reaction. "It's nice to help nudge someone outside their comfort zone as opposed to being the person being nudged. I don't think I've ever seen Elliot this happy. It's because you were here."

How do you respond to that? She's right. I know she is, which dredges up all the time I wasted with my family. As my thoughts start to spiral downward, I feel her soft hands on either side of my face. "Look forward, not back Christian because unless you have a time machine, you can't change the past. You're lucky, because you've taken a major step today from what I understand. Be grateful you can take the step and little by little quicken the pace. Not everyone is so fortunate."

Before I can ask her if she's referring to herself, the buzzer to the apartment sounds. "How might I help you at this ungodly hour?" she asks as she presses the button.

I'm surprised to hear its Taylor urgently asking if I'm with her. "I'm here Taylor," I reply as Ana buzzes him up.

A moment later Taylor is standing with us with his iPad in hand. We enter the apartment and begins showing us the video the _Seattle Nooz_ has of Ana, Ray and I out and about town, followed by footage of Kate, Elliot, Ana, and I at Base Camp Brewing, at mini-golf, at the grocery store, and even hanging out on the rooftop deck. It's all under the headline,_ Christian Grey – the Ordinary Guy_.

The article basically gives a play-by-play account of our outing today, starting with me accepting the invitation by Ray. I have to admit, the footage of me staring at Ray's truck before I get into it was amusing. They even identified everyone by name correctly and the relationship between Kate and Elliot, the writing partnership of Ana and Elliot, show footage of Ana and Elliot on stage at the concert last week, and they even reference Ana's interview with me.

Around me, Elliot, Taylor, Kate, and Ana are tense awaiting my reaction. Clearly they are waiting me to go thermonuclear, but the reality is, all I can do is laugh. It feels good to inform them that I don't give a crap about this article. It's factual. While I'm concerned that they have footage taken in the past few hours on the rooftop deck, the reality is we were out in the open. I don't like it, but it is what it is. Did I really just think that?

Nothing is funnier than the look on Taylor's face when I laugh it off even after he informs me that there are a few members of the media outside. After I apologize for the media attention to Kate and Ana, I bid them good night.

At the hotel a little while later, I can't help but search the internet for something to send Ana as a thank you for the spectacular day. I finally settle on a bouquet of a dozen paper roses, made entirely of sheet music to be delivered to the new apartment in Seattle on Saturday afternoon. I feel oddly relaxed as I settle in for a second night of uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: Thank you Tara for the rose idea and the picture you sent me of one that is now on my pinterest page for this story pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life_**


	10. Chapter 10: No Air

_**The Pinterest page for this story has been updated to include all music and some additional pictures for this chapter at the following location:**_

_**Pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life**_

_**To Tara:**__** Thank you for providing inspirational pictures, suggestions, and everything on this story. Because of your help, the characters to me feel real.**_

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 10 – No Air<strong>

Yes, I volunteered to help Kate and Ana move from Portland to Seattle. What I don't understand is why they didn't just hire movers, as I know they could afford it. Kate's trust fund is ridiculous and I know Ana has earned enough writing music to graduate the university without student loans. If Kate hadn't met Ana the move would have been done by professional movers. Ana's friendship was a game changer, causing Kate to enjoy some of the more traditional middle class experiences, like renting a truck and moving on their own. Ana called it a right of passage.

So the girls rented a truck and a trailer to tow Wanda to Seattle, and planned on one of them driving the truck, the other Kate's Mercedes. Me? I took a glance into my control freak brother's overprotective playbook, cancelled the truck and trailer as Wanda was already in Seattle, paid half a dozen of my guys to drive to Portland in a Grey Construction truck and SUV and had them complete the move. That left me driving back to Seattle in Kate's Mercedes with two of my three favorite girls as Mia was doing god only knows what back home. I swear Ana wouldn't let go of that stupid helicopter balloon Christian sent with the champagne. The entire drive she looked at it wistfully. It was actually nice to see.

On the way to the new condo, we stopped at my house and picked up the newly minted Wanda from my garage. I don't know if Ana will truly realize how much work went into her forty year old tin can, but other than brakes, axel, sound system and a tune up, I had suspension work done, installed an air conditioner, had every joint lubed, new timing chain, had it detailed, a new exhaust system, and even included rust removal and a new paint job in the same color – baby blue, like her eyes. It killed me that she drove that death trap. I knew she wouldn't give up her precious Wanda, but the least I could do is make it safe. She still won't go over sixty miles per hour, but that's fine. If it did achieve high speeds, Miss Lead foot Steele would be a hazard. Maybe it was good she was keeping Wanda.

I love the look on Ana's face every time we pull up to my house. Yes, I went crazy designing and building it and spent a fortune, but the reality is, to me it's part of my 'resume' in terms of my work. It's a cross between modern and mountain, with plenty of glass for the water views, way too many bedrooms, but it's also the ultimate bachelor pad with a game room, gym, indoor pool, office, bar, recording studio, and party room. When my parents first saw it, they thought I was crazy, but the reality is I use all of it except for a few of the guest bedrooms. It's my dream home. The night's Ana's spent here, she's always fallen asleep in the music room. It's her favorite place on the property.

As we pulled up, I clicked the garage door opener and allowed Ana to pull Wanda safely from her safe cocoon. No sooner than Wanda was in the sunlight, Ana put her in park, jumped out and dragged my sorry ass from the Mercedes and hugged me like her life depended on it. Clearly she felt the difference in Wanda. Yup, there were decadent cupcakes in my future. WOO HOO!

By the time we got to the new condo, the guys had almost everything inside and were already leaving. Kate started organizing her closet, I reassembled furniture and hooked up the electronics, and Ana organized the kitchen cupboards, her closet, and then went to the grocery store for a stock up shop. Ryan even came by to help. By ten p.m. the apartment was almost entirely unpacked and we were all sitting around the dining room table eating a dinner that consisted of pizza, beer, and cheesecake.

I love this condo. It's three large bedrooms each with it's own en-suite, a custom gourmet kitchen, custom walk-in closets, courtesy of Ray and I, but the best part is the location – the best part of Pike Market District, 5th floor penthouse with a large outdoor entertainment area. It needed a total gut and renovation, which made it a virtual steal. The reality is they owe the find on this place to Ryan, who lives one floor below them. It made me feel better that he was close by. Call me old fashioned but two girls living alone in the heart of the district left me uneasy. During the rebuild, Ryan installed a new security system, GPS on the keys, full cellular surveillance and system control for Kate, Ana, Ryan, and I because neither Ana or Kate felt comfortable with the controls. The reality is, Kate's family is worth a small fortune, so security had to be a priority. Honestly, I could see the relief in Ana's eyes the day we reviewed the security system. I just wish I understood more about her past.

Try as I might, I couldn't convince Ana to join Kate and I at my folks house for dinner tomorrow night. She was driving one hundred and fifty miles to pick up little Ozzie Steele, her thousand-dollar, eight week old, toy beagle. Yes, he's adorable. You can't help but look at him and smile. I'm not a little dog person. If I'm going to get a dog, it's going to be a massive one. You know what I mean, right? The kind that look at little Ozzie and think – appetizer. Ana even planted a small patch of grass on the patio for his needs in an emergency, which is good because I don't like the idea of her walking him in the middle of the night should the need arise.

Dinner at my parents, as always, was great; though I could have done without my mother and Mia's inquisition over why Ana wasn't there. Christian almost looked disappointed, but over the years he's pretty much learned to match Taylor's game face. Still, there was no missing that he was curious as to her reason.

"Ana had plans with Ozzie today to explore the city, take a romantic walk, and dinner," I explain ignoring Christian. I'm relying on my blonder better half to gauge Christian's reaction. On a quick glance, he was momentarily disappointed before the impassive look returned to his face. Still though, this was the most relaxed I'd seen Christian at a family dinner in years. I think it helped that Ana texted me a picture of Harrison Ford holding a sign that stated _'I shot first'_ and asked me to forward it to Christian as she didn't have any contact information.

"Ana says hi," I tell Christian as I look at my phone. "She also sends you this," and I forward the picture. Now Christian is beaming from ear-to-ear and no one misses it. All I could think is, why the fuck didn't my idiot brother give her his contact information? Dumbass. He's clearly attracted to her.

My phone vibrates again, as does Kate's. We look at the picture of Ana holding a tiny beagle puppy, his little brown head and face broken by a line of white. Fuck he's cute and Ana is just glowing.

"What is it?" Mia asks at the sight of our grins.

"Just Ana sending us pictures of her and Ozzie exploring Pike Market District. They look like they are having a blast," I respond as I stuff my phone into my pocket.

"They are adorable together," Kate adds.

"But I thought Ana and Christian were dating," Mia mutters in confusion.

"No Mia," Christian responds quietly. "I accepted Ray Steele's invite because I thought Kate and Elliot would be joining us. We're barely friends regardless of how the media portrayed Thursday night."

"Oh," Mia sighs as my parents almost appear disappointed by Christian's response. "Is Ozzie a hottie? How long have they known each other?"

I can't help but laugh as Kate informs her he's the cutest guy she's seen in ages, except Elliot. "They met a few weeks ago but this is their first outing. Knowing Ana though, she's going to call it an early night as she starts her new job tomorrow morning and that girl needs her full eight hours of sleep, though she rarely gets it. She's going to bury herself into the job, just like she did with school."

"So when do you two leave for Barbados?" my mom asks.

"Tomorrow afternoon," Kate replies. "I'm glad Ana will have Ozzie with her because she's nervous when she's alone in the apartment. I'm glad Ryan's going to check in on her while we are gone."

"So this Ozzie, who she barely knows is staying with her?" Christian mutters unhappily. "How safe can that be for a young woman to have a virtual stranger staying with her?"

"I trust Ozzie," I counter knowingly. It's tough to keep a straight face.

"Give Taylor his last name so we can run a quick background check and make sure," my baby bro demands, which has our parents watching him curiously.

I can't help it, I laugh and Kate joins me. "Come on Christian. We know you like Ana. Just ask her out." He's brooding now. It's fucking hilarious. Finally Kate passes Christian her phone and shows him a picture of Ana and Ozzie.

"You're a fucking ass, you know that?" He snaps at me. "Ozzie is a dog."

"But he's cute."

"That he is, but I'm sorry, a five pound beagle puppy isn't going to be able to protect her," Christian counters.

"Protect her from what? There are no threats against her, other than crap from her past that still haunt her. You know that, because you don't even being to trust someone without a background check. She's going to be fine and frankly, being alone at the condo will do her some good. She'll call Ryan if she needs anything as he doesn't live far and in a pinch, she can go to his place or my place if she doesn't feel comfortable," I counter. "If that's not good enough for you, then spend time with her as a friend while we are gone. It will do you both some good. I mean, it's rare that Ana let's anyone in and she trusts you. That's half the battle with her."

I can't help but grab his phone, which was on the table and adding Ana to his contacts – cell phone, landline, and email. "There, now you have no excuse."

All I know is the rest of dinner is awkward. I can only hope that while Kate and I are on vacation, he gets his head out of his ass and spends time with Ana. They are good for each other.

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><p>First thing Wednesday morning, Ros and Taylor are sitting in my office ready to discuss the acquisition of SIP. It turns out that the managing director there has been authorized by the owners to find a buyer as they are in financial trouble, so this should be a relatively simple, reasonably priced purchase. There are no unions, they own the building they are in, though it needs work, and none of the two hundred employees flagged on the preliminary background check for anything other than traffic citations.<p>

"So," Ros begins "outwardly all things are clear for a clean take over. The issues they are having are basically poor financial management due to lousy contracting. They could use a few more successful authors, but what publishing house couldn't. Turnover is on the high side in terms of interns, but that's not all that unusual, as internships are about seeing if this is what you really want to do. Technologically they are a bit outdated, so Barney will have to bring them into the twenty first century. They jumped late onto the e-book bandwagon, but appear to be catching up."

"So why sell now?" I can't help but ask.

"The current owners are ready to retire and move on according to Roach. The last quarter's financials are starting to reflect some improvement after a few really bad years," she explains. "I can't help but feel there's more there, but without being able to really talk to the human resources staff, we won't have a clue."

"We reached out to a few former employees, but nothing jumped out at us as concerning," Taylor explained.

"What's the earliest we can close on SIP?"

"Some time late next week," Ros replies watching me closely. "We still need to strategize on the reorganization and get all the paperwork ready."

"We also need to have an inspection done on the building. It's getting old and the upkeep on it appears to be lacking," Taylor explains. "From what I could see, it will need a full rewire and insulation at the very least to bring it close to our basic electronic standards. The building itself needs all new windows, roof, and the plumbing is outdated. I have Elliot's building manager doing a walk through inspection at it on Friday. I can't help but feel it needs to come down and a full rebuild done. Either way, all the employees will have to be moved to new facilities for a building rehab to take place."

"Which would explain why the sale price is quite reasonable," Ros added. "Their single biggest asset is in need of replacement."

"Get the inspection done and make the deal happen. I want to take ownership early next week. If we need to replace the building, we can move the company onto the sixth and seventh floors here, which are vacant, then decide if we rebuild or sell the current property," I order. "If SIP, or what will become Grey Publishing, is one it's way back after a few bad years, it would be nice to infuse some fresh blood and technology into the place an try to really build it into a publishing power house along the lines of a Harper Collins or Pearson. It would also give us a way to expand upon our charitable work to include educational materials in poor areas. Make sure once this deal is done, let's pull together a group of people to find the right printing company to purchase or we'll build our own from the ground up."

"Will do," Ros replies as she scribbles in her notebook. "I took the liberty of asking Gwen to recommend a few print companies locally and names of people in the industry that could be potential hires. After her years at Harper Collins, she knows quite a few people."

"And she doesn't want to return to the work force?" I can't help but ask.

"Not full-time. The kids keep her busy and she's about to start another IVF cycle," Ros explains. "Have them while you're young."

"If she's interested, hire her as a part-time consultant then on this project. It will keep her busy while the kids are at school," I counter.

As the day droned on I didn't realize it was already eight o'clock. I kept glancing at Anastasia's contact information on and off throughout the day. I feel like I have split personality when it comes to her. One part of me wants to spend time getting to know and understand this beautiful, innocent woman, while the other side wants to protect her, which means keeping myself as far away from her as possible. She doesn't need to be contaminated by my fucked up bullshit. She's had a hard enough life yet she's remained pure, innocent, and god help me, but a virgin.

I can't expose her to my lifestyle. I'll destroy her no matter how hard I try not to. I know I will. How could I be good enough for someone like her? The thought of potentially causing her more torment than she's already suffered leaves me feeling queasy, which confirms my preliminary decision to keep her at a distance and make sure she's safe is the proper one. Every time I've attempted to rethink the decision in the past few days, I come to the same conclusion in the end.

This is the third day this week where I allowed this internal debate to consume me – to call or not to call. Every time I reach the same conclusion, get into the Audi and then spend the evening trying to complete the work I neglected during the day because I couldn't get her out of my mind.

Halfway home my cell rings. "Grey."

"Hey bro, I need a favor," Elliot's voice barely comes through with some static and loud music blaring in the background.

"What?" I don't have time for his crap.

"The alarm at the condo was triggered. The security company can't get through to Ana but Kate got a text, so we called. According to them, her keys and cell are in the apartment but she's not answering. Can you send Ryan over there? He's got a key to their place. I'm worried about Ana. It's not like her to not answer her phone."

I lean forward and tell Taylor to have Ryan meet us at Kate and Ana's condo before turning my attention back to the call. "Ryan's still at Grey House but he's leaving now. Taylor and I are only a few blocks away, so we'll stop over as well."

It takes us five minutes to get there and Ryan, accompanied by Sawyer is right behind us. We take the elevator to the top floor. It opens to a small elegant hallway with a dark wood floor and a four-foot wide colorful Moroccan print runner leading to the only door on the floor. The pale walls contained assorted metallic wall-art that worked together to show wild life and flora around the massive centerpiece, which was a wall sculpture of the tree of life. It was different from any hallway I'd ever seen, but it worked.

I knocked on the door a few times but received no answer. As I was about to have Ryan use his key to enter the apartment, the elevator opened and two representatives from the security company joined us. We explained our presence before one of the representatives commented on finding it awfully quiet given the alarm sounded.

"One of the owners is a musician," Ryan explained. "They purchased the condo as a total gut job because of a fire caused by the previous owner, so in the rebuild, it was soundproofed."

As Ryan opens the door we are surrounded by the buzzing of the alarm, piano music, singing, and the barking of the worlds smallest attack dog, Ozzie, who raced to the door in search of intruders. He was adorable. I couldn't help but pick him up and scratch him behind the ears and the barking immediately stopped. Ryan deactivated the alarm system and the buzzing ceased.

We all looked over at Anastasia, whose back was to us as she sat in a small corner of the apartment that had once been an office but that was now designated as a mini-recording studio and a thick glass wall with a door separated her from us. She sat before a keyboard playing. Massive headphones dwarfed her petite features as we just stood there listening to her sing the end of Norah Jones's _Don't Know Why_. The moment she finished, she grabbed a guitar and started another slow, yet sad, song. Her voice sounded almost sultry yet haunted as sung a familiar song about being broken while recording the track. Sawyer saw my confusion and whispered, _Broken_ by Seether. We couldn't help but watch and listen as if we were hypnotized. When she hit the chorus you couldn't help but shiver as she sang:

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open_

_And I don't feel like I am strong enough_

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome_

_And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

Before we could let her know we were here, her delicate hands were once again on the keyboard playing as soulful, soothing melody that I instantly recognized before she even sang the first line, _You with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged_, and I wondered if she was singing Cyndi Lauper's _True Colors_ about herself of someone else. The lyrics could have applied to me, as it was a song about the darkness inside you, but in my case there was nothing beautiful about the darkness.

When she finished the third song, we all just stood there waiting for the next, but she pulled the headphones off, wiped tears from her eyes with a tissue, and turned around. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw us all standing there. She came out of the small studio and immediately asked how long we'd been watching.

"Just for a few songs," I explained barely able to take my eyes off her body. She's wearing a small pair of denim shorts, a printed white tank top and a yellow sweater. Her feet are bare, revealing a French manicure on her toes that matches her fingertips, but also she's wearing a toe ring and a thin chain around her ankle and the clasp is an anchor. I can only imagine it's her way of keeping her former Marine father, Ray with her at all times. "Elliot called me about the alarm being triggered here, so we came over to make sure you were okay."

The shy, embarrassed smile on her face was charming. It made her appear more innocent than normal. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear the alarm go off. I've been recording for the better part of an hour and in the studio you can't hear it. Can you check to make sure everything is okay? I tend to lock myself in here when I'm home; even though the wall is glass, nothing can get through it so I feel safe in here."

Taylor, Ryan, Sawyer, and the two alarm guys make their way through the apartment checking all of the windows and doors, leaving me alone with Anastasia. "You sounded beautiful."

She blushed profusely. "Elliot and the band were asked to play a big concert in the park by an alternative radio station as the opening act for some yet to be disclosed headliner next month. Apparently the concert footage from the fundraiser was released a few days ago as part of a DVD to raise additional funds and the band caught someone's attention. So my job while he's gone is to pick out a preliminary list of cover songs, record them, and start finding the new lead vocalist for the band. I'm hoping by the time he returns, I'll have the vocalists choices down to four or five and he'll pick one. If I left it up to him, he'd do nothing."

"And you don't want to play the show?" I couldn't help but ask.

She laughed. "Once was too much for me, so no. While I love music, I'd rather write it and play it for myself than perform for others. I will always choose privacy and books over music and attention."

"I know it's late but did you have dinner yet?"

"Not yet. I tend to eat a late supper," she replies shyly.

"Would you care to join me for dinner tonight?" I ask.

She's blushing profusely now and can barely make eye contact with me as she whispers, "Sure."

Is it wrong that I'm ridiculously happy over this? I know I'm probably grinning like an idiot, but I can't help myself. "Perfect."

The security company technicians return to the living room, followed by the others. They explain that a faulty censor, that has now been repaired, caused the alarm to trigger. I send Elliot a quick text bringing him up to date on the situation. A moment later I dismiss Sawyer and Ryan for the night and inform Taylor that Miss Steele and I will be heading out to dinner shortly. Taylor nods and leaves the apartment.

"We don't have to go out to dinner," she barely whispers. "I made a small Buffalo Chicken and veggie casserole. It needs to go into the oven for 30 minutes. There's more than enough for two."

"Sounds wonderful."

"Then kick your shoes off and get comfortable. No ties allowed either," she teases heading to the kitchen. I can't help but watch as she pulls the casserole dish from the refrigerator and places it in the pre-heated oven. "We have wine, beer, juice, and iced tea. Name your poison Christian."

"Wine is fine," I laugh as I drop my tie and suit jacket onto the side chair with my shoes next to it and head to the kitchen. She hands me a glass of wine and pulls me toward the small recording studio.

"I hear you play a mean piano," she gives me a smile that absolutely glows. I nod. "Do you sing?"

"Not publicly and not outside the shower," I chuckle as she sits me before one of the two keyboards in the room.

"I need someone to record this duet with me," she mutters as she rifles through the desk for the music. Finally she hands me the sheet music and lyrics and I smirk.

"_No Air_ is begrudgingly one of Mia's favorite songs. She hates Chris Brown but loves this song. I got sick of hearing it when it came out," I inform her.

The pout on her face is hysterical as she takes my hand, smiles up at me adoringly and begins her manipulative play to get me to help her. It's hysterical. "Well, I need to record it and I need a duet partner so it's part of the playlist for Elliot's approval."

"And Elliot won't know it's me?" I can't help but ask.

She looks at me in shock. "He's never heard you sing?"

"No one has." I feel awkward and suddenly uncomfortable.

"But you can sing, right?"

I merely shrug.

"Would you give it a try with me? If you don't like it, I can ask Ryan to record it with me tomorrow," she pleads.

I explain to her the issue she's going to have is the song calls for a higher end male vocal and my voice tends to be a lower range than what she needs.

"Please Christian? I already have all the music recorded and mixed except the piano."

She's killing me. Finally after she begs a few more times I reluctantly give in. I watch as she plugs in a second pair of headphones and hands them to me before replacing the regular microphone with a much larger one set between us.

"Let's watch the original music video first, then do a test run, okay?" she asks.

"Sure."

Once we watch the video twice and listen to the song, I'm even more nervous. I watch as she makes adjustments to the control panel before turning her attention back to me. "Ready?" I nod and she begins her vocals, while I begin playing the song from the sheet music. When it gets to my first vocal, I'm terrified, yet I somehow manage to sing. We get to the first harmony and at the end of it, she turns off the pre-recorded instrumental track.

"Holy shit," she whispers.

"What?" I ask uncertainly. Great, now I feel self-conscious.

Her cheeks are crimson, her breathing is bordering on erratic. "Your voice is deeper then Chris Brown's vocal and it just gave me chills. Yours were rich, satiny, and just wow. Are you sure you haven't done this before? As Kate would say, that was S. A. F."

I'm guessing I'm as red as she is right now. "S.A.F.?"

I never thought it was possible, but she's absolutely scarlet as she whispers, "Sexy as fuck" before she giggles.

"Language Miss Steele," I tease her. God I feel over the moon right now.

"If the shoe fits Mr. Grey," she giggles. "Okay, let's do this."

I have no idea how we managed it, but we nailed the song the very first time. It almost felt like musical foreplay, as we got lost in the melody and the words. It was sensual, erotic, and honestly, being here with her and sharing the experience was the most intimate experience I'd ever had. As we finished the last harmony, our eyes were glued to each other's, and our faces mere inches apart. Our connection felt like the air between us sizzled as I reached up and caressed her cheek and felt her relax into my touch. My lips followed as I softly kissed her plump, pouty lips, which had haunted me around the clock; they were soft, sweet, and for this moment in time, mine. When I felt her fingers gently run through my hair, I pulled her closer and deepened the kiss.

When our kiss ended, part of me braced myself for the slap that would follow, as it had for Ethan Kavanagh. I was surprised to see a nervous smile on her face and her fingers were still lightly running through my hair before she softly moaned, "Wow."


	11. Chapter 11: Fade to Oblivion

**Author's Note: Please remember this entire story will be told from the POV of either Christian or Elliot. (At this point, Elliot is on vacation in Barbados with Kate) You will never see Ana's POV in this story.**

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><p><span><strong>Chapter 11 – Fade to Oblivion<strong>

All I wanted to do was extend this intimate moment for an eternity. Her face was beautiful, flawless, and at this very instant, her shyness was gone, replaced by awe and a sense of wonder. At times I can be an egomaniac, but this time, beyond any doubt, I felt confident and proud that I was one hundred percent responsible for the sparkle in the astonished blue eyes that now gazed into mine. I couldn't help but caress her cheek with my thumb as I nestled my other fingers in her thick brown hair.

When my eyes glance down at her pouty lips, she softly gasps in anticipation. I can feel myself becoming aroused. Her gasp was single-handedly the sexiest sound I'd ever heard. I moved my thumb instinctively from her cheek to grace her supple lips. With each caress, her blue eyes became darker, her pupils expanded, and I can feel her relax under my touch. Her head tilts ever so slightly and her breathing quickens. Any sense of control I felt vanished when her fingers, which were still safely nestled in my hair, shifted before she buried her fingers in it. I took her slight tug as encouragement.

My lips brushed against hers, once, twice, and just as I was about to deepen the kiss, I felt her softly guide my head closer as she leaned forward to greet my lips with hers. Single-handedly, it was the hottest, most sensual experience of my life. Her lips were soft, pliant and oh so sweet. Gently, I caressed her cheek with my thumb, before shifting my hands path down her neck and shoulder causing her to softly moan before kissing me with heightened passion. My pants tightened, my breathing quickened, and I knew if I didn't put the brakes on this now, I would ruin this incredible moment between us by pushing her too far too quickly.

After one more kiss, I moved my lips and rested my forehead against hers. Our desire-filled eyes met as we gave each other a shy smile. "You are beautiful Anastasia," I whisper before kissing the tip of her nose. "I've been attracted to you since before the interview. I would very much like to explore whatever this is between us, but I need you to help me set the pace so I don't overstep and make you uncomfortable. I hope you feel the same."

That shy smile of hers was going to be my undoing. Both her hands were lightly tugging on my hair. I wondered if it was a nervous reflex on her part, but all it was doing was arousing me to the point where I thought the zipper on my pants might separate and it was becoming increasingly difficult to think clearly.

"This is new for me. It's breathtakingly spectacular yet terrifying at the same time," she whispered uncertainly as she kissed my nose in return. When I gazed into her blue eyes, her vulnerability was clear, as was her sense of innocent wonder. "I need you to understand that deep inside I'm lost and just a mess, so it will take me time to process whatever this attraction is between us."

"So you feel it too?"

Her eyes never leave mine as she nods and smiles. "It's overwhelming and it makes me feel alive."

"I understand exactly how you feel."

When her fingers stop playing with my hair, I sigh with disappointment causing her to giggle. That sound – I have no idea how I could possibly get any harder, but I'm like granite. Her delicate hand takes mine and reflexively our fingers entwine. As she stands, she gives my hand a slight tug and I get to my feet. "Let's have dinner and get to know each other better."

On our way to the kitchen, she opens the French doors leading to the patio. Ozzie immediately heads outside and starts barking at a bird that's sitting on the glass safety partition. This patio is different than the one in Portland. It's surrounded by glass so we can take in the views and people watch. It's more formal in that it's less deck and more a true outdoor living space. The outdoor kitchen features a built in gas grill, a pizza oven, plenty of counter space, and a full-blown smoker. There is a window in the kitchen that provides a pass-thru serving station and even a small bar area. The seating area contains a massive wicker couch with white cushions and matching coffee table. A sloped, lightly tinted glass roof supported by thick, etched wrought iron pillars protects the seating area from the elements. Each pillar has cream-colored outdoor curtains attached to them, which are currently tied back. The large round dining table seats eight. The Lazy Susan in the center of the table currently holds a glass-encased candle and sealed glass canister containing assorted dog treats.

Even Ozzie has a raised, wicker, cushioned bed next to the couch and a patch of grass over to one side of the patio. Looking around, his toys are scattered around the deck. It's as much his place as it is theirs. For an apartment dog, it's clear he's going to have a good life.

All around the deck are hanging baskets of multi-colored flowers, plants, and solar-powered lanterns. There was even a small, wall-mounted herb garden with each planting jar labeled by what it contains surrounding the kitchen window, so all she had to do was reach out and snip what she needed while cooking.

Nearby was a larger garden area with more herbs in rectangular planters hanging by chains. There was also a massive wooden vertical square that held familiar greenery. If I wasn't mistaken, as the season progressed there would be cucumbers, different types of green beans, peas, and tomatoes hanging here. There were even hanging strawberry baskets.

The space felt serene, warm, and welcoming. Just looking around I can't help but feel I've been given a glimpse into another layer of my Anastasia. "It's beautiful out here," I comment as Ozzie runs to his patch of grass to do his business. "It's almost like upscale country living in a city apartment."

"I love being outside, but I dislike having crowds of strangers around," she explains. "Kate and I wanted a place where we could have our friends over and not have to worry about security. Her father is quite over-protective and for that I'm grateful. When we bought this place, her father thought we were mad as it was a burned out, gutted shell. He quieted down when he saw the plans Elliot designed with us.

"I think we spent a solid month just sitting at his computer with him designing. Honestly, if the place hadn't been a burned out hovel, we never could have afforded this place. Luckily my dad is a carpenter and all around handy, so between him and Elliot, they came up with a renovation plan that didn't cost us much more than materials and paying his crew for the larger tasks. We did the rest. Growing up we never hired anyone. Dad and I did all the renovation projects together," she explained with a big smile on her face. I admired and envied her relationship with her father. They were a true team and family. I never allowed myself to have the type of intimate family connection.

"All of the cabinets and vanities in the apartment were hand-crafted by my dad," she stated proudly. I love that she adores her father. "Elliot's crew came in, finished gutting the place, and building the main structure. Dad, Elliot and I spent many late nights here putting up drywall, puttying, taping and sanding. While we worked, Kate shopped for accessories and appliances. She'd never picked up a screwdriver in her life unless it involved a glass, orange juice and vodka, so we sent her shopping. Kate, Elliot, Ethan, dad and I then spent the entire weekend here painting. My dad then installed wood floors throughout the apartment with his two apprentices, and voila, it was move in ready."

"You all did amazing work."

"If Elliot hadn't been persistent two years ago and pushed me over-and-over again to write with him, I never would have been able to afford this place. Even with my song-writing income and emptying my bank account to pay for my share of this and exploiting my employee discount at Clayton's in a big way, it's tough, but so worth it. This really was a great investment. Between the purchase price and renovation, Kate and I are in for about six hundred thousand, which is a drop in the hat compared to what it's now worth. Songwriting may have helped build this, but publishing would maintain it. From here on out any song writing income goes directly into savings for a rainy day. Kate's dad was so thrilled when he came on the final walk through before we moved in, that he took us shopping for the outdoor furniture and kitchen."

"I'm surprised there's not a television out here. Knowing my brother, I could see him sitting outside watching sports every evening with a beer in hand," I laugh.

She rolls here eyes and points to a box mounted on what I had assumed was a wrought iron sculpture suspended nearby. "He installed a projection television there and with a flick of the switch to your right, a screen comes down so we can watch sports. I was dead set against it, as I didn't want it to sully the mood out here, so we reached a compromise in terms of hiding the screen and mounting the projector like a piece of art."

She leads me into the kitchen. My stomach growls as she pulls the casserole from the oven. We grab dishes, silverware, wine, and the casserole and head out to the patio. Ozzie follows with his little nose sniffing in the air.

"No people food for Ozzie," she informs me as she takes the canister of treats from the table, opens it and hands Ozzie a small dog biscuit. His little tail is wagging as he plops himself onto the floor and begins gnawing at the corner of it while holding it in place with his paws. I've never been a pet person, but like his owner, he really is captivating.

As Ana serves the food, I light the glass-enclosed candle at the center of the table. It couldn't have been a more perfect evening – great food, wine, and company all in an intimate, casual, homey atmosphere made the evening pass far too quickly. Our conversation just flowed from books, to movies, to business, and finally a favorite of mine, history. My shy girl is not just beautiful, but intelligent, talented, well read, and enchanting.

Before our night comes to an end, I've asked her for a copy of any music she's recorded. She smiles sweetly before pulling me back into the recording studio. She takes my phone, plugs it into the console, and with the touch of a few buttons, she burns over two-dozen songs, including our duet into a directory. Before she hands me back my phone, she grins mischievously before making me promise not to share the tracks with anyone. I agree. Inwardly I can't help but think that it won't be an issue because I don't share what's mine and this woman is all mine.

It's nearly midnight when I sit on her couch and finally put my shoes back on followed by my jacket and tie. I've never been someplace where I felt instantly at home, but I did here. It felt like I belonged. It was warm, inviting, and a reflection of the woman who resides here. No wonder Ethan and Rodriguez fell for her. It's very easy to quickly grow fond of her. She's vulnerable, yet strong; smart, yet ridiculously sexy; and, kind, yet no one's doormat.

As we end our evening standing on either side of her open apartment door, I find myself not wanting to leave. I wish I had some excuse to stay. "Dinner tomorrow? We could go out," I ask.

She merely smiles at me. "Can we have dinner here again? I work until five and after being away all day, I don't want to neglect Ozzie. He's still being house trained."

"I would love that. I'll cater in dinner if you'd like."

She giggles as she picks up Ozzie and he instantly licks her fingers. "How about we break in the pizza oven? I've been dying to try it. I can throw the ingredients for dough in the bread machine when I come home at lunch to walk Ozzie. When you get here we can go across the street to the salad bar for toppings and a big salad."

"Deal."

"I'm taking Ozzie to the dog park on Saturday. I want to tire him out so I can explore the Seattle Art Museum in the afternoon. Care to spend the day with us?" she quietly asks through crimson cheeks.

It feels incredible knowing she wants to spend time with me – not my money, just me. "I would love to. If you want, we can even stop, pick up some steaks and grill on the patio afterward. This way Ozzie has company in the evening."

"I look forward to it," she whispers gazing up at me.

I take Ozzie and put him on the ground before moving closer to Ana. I can't resist twirling my finger in a strand of her soft, wavy hair. "I can't wait until tomorrow evening." I love that when our lips meet, she reflexively runs her fingers through my hair. I can't help but groan at the contact. Gently I ease her against the wall and wrap my arms around her as the kiss deepens. Just feeling her body pressed against mine is sensation overload. When we finally pull apart, we once again bring our foreheads together and at the same time whisper, "Wow."

We can't help but laugh. "Good night Anastasia."

"Good night Christian. I can't wait for tomorrow either," she sighs happily.

I can't resist kissing her lightly one more time before heading to the elevator. There's little doubt her eyes are on me as I wait for the doors to open. The chemistry between us is palpable even when we are twenty feet apart. When the elevator arrives, I step inside, press the button for the first floor and stare at Ana in the distance. She's grinning broadly at me as the doors begin to close.

"Christian wait!" she yells as she runs toward the elevator in her bare feet. I manage to press the door open button and step forward to block the censor. Once she's directly before me, she grabs my tie and pulls me down to her eye level. "One more kiss before you go?"

I can only imagine the crooked, astonished grin on my face. Our other kisses were gentle and romantic, yet incredible. This time I don't hold back. She's in my arms and in an instant our kiss is impassionate, needy, and intense. One of her hands is in my hair, the other around my waist holding me tightly against her. If we keep this up, I won't be going anywhere.

When our lips finally part, she smiles up at me adoringly. "Good night Mr. Grey."

I can't help but chuckle. "Good night Miss Steele."

As she turns and walks back toward her apartment door, there's a spring in her step. Just as the elevator doors are closing, I watch as she jumps into the air and cries out _'Yes!'_ before entering her apartment with Ozzie at her feet. There is little doubt that I'm grinning like a raving idiot right now and I just don't care. During the elevator ride to the first floor, all I can think is _best first date ever!_

* * *

><p>Once I arrived back at Escala, I took a quick shower, got ready for bed, and put my phone on the dock to listen to the songs she recorded. To my surprise I found two directories, the first labeled ballads &amp; love songs, the second is labeled alternative rock. I set the ballads &amp; love songs directory to play and repeat, before getting comfortable beneath the blanket. It was a mix of covers ranging from Norah Jones, to Pink, to the Beatles, to Christina Aguilera, and finally a few acoustic tracks of her favorite Sick Puppies songs. Her voice is pure, sweet, sultry, raw, revealing, and for me, soothing.<p>

On a good night, I might get five interrupted hours sleep. I crawled into bed last night just after twelve-thirty a.m. listening to music, and didn't move until the alarm clock went of at seven-thirty. It was the first night in what felt like forever without nightmares. Hell, I felt like could have slept another few hours. The last time I didn't wake up before the alarm was when Elliot and my father dragged me out for a business dinner on a big contract where Elliot's company was a finalist. After winning and signing the contract, we ended up staying out until three a.m. celebrating and all returned to Escala beyond drunk. It's not every day your brother wins a contract on a brand new shopping mall and center build.

The day at Grey House couldn't go fast enough for my liking. I felt like a teenager, unable to focus on anything but my plans for this evening, but instead of school, I had mergers and acquisitions. I felt incredibly relaxed and happy, which struck everyone around me as odd. I know, because every time Ros looked at me, she grinned. No one was more surprised by how relaxed I was than me. I could spend hours in my playroom trying to screw away the tension and anxiety in me, yet one even with Anastasia worked ten times better. I immediately shut down thoughts of the playroom. It's a conversation I'll need to have with Anastasia at some point, but for now, I wanted to enjoy this abject normalcy.

I sent Barney to the Apple store first thing in the morning to pick me up the latest _iPad_ and a _Bose_ dock for my office. He even managed to transfer the music Ana gave me from my phone onto it, allowing me to listen to it whenever I wanted without draining my phone battery. I then ordered a small Gardenia Bonsai tree to be delivered to Anastasia's office along with a music themed mug for her morning tea, which I had filled with chocolate, guitar-shaped lollypops. My girl has a sweet tooth. I would have ordered regular flowers but judging from Ana's apartment, she prefers plants that grow.

By four thirty I'm going stir crazy. I know Anastasia works until five or five thirty, but I don't do waiting. About an hour ago I asked Taylor to make sure the R-8 was here by five. After tirelessly pacing my office for another few minutes, I head down to the security office to find Taylor at work on his computer, Sawyer watching the monitors, and Ryan on his cell phone as I enter.

"Calm down Ana," I hear Ryan practically pleading with her. "I get the fact that your boss gives you the creeps. I'll reach out to some people I know to find out more about him. Do you want me to pick you up from work?"

I can't help but listen to the silence. More than anything I want to know what she's telling him.

"So this Hyde character, your boss, keeps pushing you to go out?" he asks her. I can see the disapproval on his face. After a pause, he continues. "Tell the fucker your boyfriend is picking you up. I'll come get you but promise me after today you'll drive Wanda to work instead of walking. This way you always have a ready excuse to say no to him."

After another brief pause as Ana speaks, he continues. "Yeah, you owe me one short stuff. Kristie expects your sorry ass over for dinner in the near future. For my sake, please bring your golden rum cake."

"Ryan, please inform Miss Steele, if she has no objections, I will pick her up from work at five o'clock sharp. It makes sense since we already have plans for the evening," I inform him. Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn Taylor smiled.

Once Ryan explained my request to Ana and she agreed, I turned my attention to Taylor. "We'll leave in ten minutes in the Q7. Sawyer can take the R-8 back to Escala. Pull everything together that you can on this Hyde fellow at SIP. Since I'm buying the company, I want to make sure he's above board."

"Already on it, sir," he replies.

At five o'clock on the dot, I walk into the lobby of Seattle Independent Publishing. It's run down and Taylor is right. Even on first look, the building needs to be imploded so we can start over. The receptionist is attractive, yet dressed unprofessionally. When I look around, everyone I see is dress casually. It feels like they are going to a 1960's love in as opposed to a place of business.

The receptionist grins at me as I approach her. She's completely disregarding the jerk standing next to her. What kind of self-respecting man wears a ponytail to work and a hoop earring? Fucking loser. "I'm here to pick up Miss Anastasia Steele."

"And you are?" Ponytail guy snaps at me with disdain.

This guy is just royally pissing me off, but before I can respond, I feel Ana's hand on my arm an instant before she gets on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you for picking me up Christian. I'm looking forward to our quiet dinner at home. Oh and I loved the plant, the mug and the chocolates."

Her remark gets ponytail guy's eyes blazing at me with anger. Before he can say anything, Ana says, "Good night Jack. Good night Claire." As we head toward the door, she wraps her arm around my waist and I place my arm over her shoulder. The moment she leans into me, I feel relaxed and at home. Once we are in the back of the Audi and on route to her place, I can't resist kissing her tenderly.

When we arrive at her apartment, I expected Ozzie to greet us when she opened the door but he didn't. "Where's Ozzie?"

"He's in his crate by the couch," she explains as she heads toward one of the end tables. When I look at it, it's wooden, beautifully stained dog crate. Ozzie is looking out at us with his tail wagging and he starts to whine. I watch as Ana opens the door, picks him up, and immediately heads out to the patio. She places him on his patch of grass and waits. I follow her lead. "He's too little to allow to run lose when I'm not home. He'll chew up everything, have accidents around the apartment, and wreck havoc. It's what puppies do."

"He seems like a great deal of work," I comment uncertainly.

"He is but he's worth it. He's so lovable. He loves to cuddle. It's soothing have him around and the bonus is I'm never alone," she sighs happily. She picks up a little ball from a small basket on the patio and tosses it to me as Ozzie finishes _his business_, as she calls it. "Toss the ball for him. He loves chasing it. He's still too young to bring it back to you, but he loves playing with it. I toss it once and he's good for ten minutes of swatting, rolling around, and chewing on it."

When I squat down and call Ozzie over to me, his eyes grow large as he sees the ball, his tail wags like he's a helicopter trying to take off, and he's practically hopping. When I pretend to throw it, he starts to chase where he thinks it went before turning back to me and barking. Well, if you can really call what he does barking – I'm not so sure. When I finally toss the ball he follows it as fast as his little legs will take him. She's right, there's something relaxing about being with Ozzie. You can't help but feel good being around such a happy little guy.

I can't help but wonder what other experiences I've denied myself over the past twenty plus years. For years I was told love is for fools and not meant for people like me, but being with Anastasia has forced me to begin re-evaluating the lessons that were whipped into me as a teenager as Elena's submissive. In the Christian Grey life thesaurus, _Anastasia_ should be synonymous with _'life affirming reality check'_. I love every second of it because here there is only light and my darkness fades into oblivion. I feel free, young, and full of hope for the first time in my life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Pinterest updated 127/2014 - Jack Hyde added to Pinterst 12/7 6:50 pm Central time US**_

_**Pinterest dot com /xwingana/off-key-life**_


	12. Chapter 12: Ozzie the Dominant

_**Pinterest: xwingana/off-key-life (updated today!)**_

**...**

**Chapter 12 – Ozzie the Dominant**

I can't help but walk around the patio, making sure there is no way little Ozzie can squeeze through a gap between the glass enclosure and the building and potentially fall to the pavement below. Ana assured me that he can't but still, I liked the little guy, so my overprotective streak came through.

"While you do that," Ana chuckled getting the pizza oven heated and ready, "I'll head across the street for pizza toppings and our salad. What do you like on your pizza?"

"Surprise me."

"I'll be quick. Help yourself to whatever you want from the refrigerator," she murmured as she grabbed her purse, tenderly kissed me goodbye and headed out the door. It felt like a normal moment between two people who care about each other. This was new to me, yet welcome. This isn't something I ever thought I would feel.

Once I'm comfortable that Ozzie won't be doing a header off the building, I head inside and help myself to a glass of wine. Slowly but surely Ozzie finds his small basket of toys and in seconds has them spread out all over the living room floor but doesn't play with any of them. He barks at me, and then runs down the hallway and I follow. He stops at a door and barks his little head off.

"Do you want to go in there?"

He barks some more. When I don't let him in, he howls. It's the cutest thing I think I've ever seen. When I open the door, he runs inside and a moment later is dragging a plush toy that resembles _Chewbacca_ from _Star Wars_ out into the living room.

I can't help but glance into Ana's bedroom. It's a large room with a beige upholstered sleigh bed against the center wall. I've never seen a bed with so many pillows. I find it amusing that someone as tiny as Anastasia has a king-sized bed. The style fits her perfectly though. I can picture her sitting in bed leaning against the tufted headboard as she reads with Ozzie curled up at her feet, candles burning on the night stands, and soft music playing. Even I can see how romantic this room feels, which is odd for a woman who has never dated anyone.

Other than two end tables on either side of the bed and a wall mounted flat screen television there's not much in here. I feel happy gazing at the bouquet of paper roses I sent her as it is prominently displayed on one bedside table, and attached to her bed is the helicopter balloon. Clearly she has been thinking of me. I'm thrilled.

Her reading nook is spectacular. There is a large window, which shows the patio greenery and Ana's urban garden. At the base of the window are a built-in, colorfully upholstered bench and more loaded bookcases. The only way to get to it is to walk through two, white, floor to ceiling bookcases that are filled with her books, framed pictures, knickknacks, and an iPod dock.

I can't resist feeling nosey and glance into what I believe is her closet, but when I open the door, it's her en-suite bathroom. It's larger than the average bathroom, but less than half the size of the one in the master suite as Escala. It's like stepping into a comfortable spa – clean, modern, and tranquil. Her walk in closet surprises me. Unlike Mia's closet, which feels like every department store in the United States and Paris threw up inside it, Ana's is organized, functional, simple, and uncluttered.

I love how everywhere I went, Ozzie was at my heels dragging his Chewbacca behind him. I can't resist picking him up and heading back to the living room. I can see why Ana loves him. He's a good companion. I take off my shoes, jacket and tie, as I'd done the night before, and sit on the floor and play tug using the stuffed animal. His little growls as he tries to pull it from me are hilarious. He'll never be an attack dog, but inside his five pound body is the soul of a Rottweiler, or so he thinks anyway.

We didn't hear Ana come in as we were too busy playing, but the moment she giggles I look over at her as Ozzie runs to greet her. I can see she has her phone in her hand, grinning at the screen from ear to ear. When I arrive in the kitchen, she shows me the pictures she took of me playing with Ozzie. To my surprise, I look relaxed, young, and carefree. With a click of a few buttons she forwards the pictures my way.

She reaches into the grocery bag and pulls out a small stack of mail and a box that looks like it could contain a batch of new checks. When she opens the box, she seems happy. Inside, covered in bubble wrap, was a dog collar with a new tag with Ozzie's name and contact information inscribed on one side, and a small, plastic-coated microchip mounted to it on the other.

"What's that on the back of his tag?" I can't help but ask.

"Dad has a friend who is retired military disabled. He is trying to develop a tracker for small dogs as most trackers are too large for a dog Ozzie's size," she explains. "His friend asked me to test this new one, so he added it to the nametag and emailed me an app for my phone so I can track him. I also had it placed on Elliot, Kate's and Ryan's phones, so if Ozzie pulls a prison break the app will tell us where he is via a text message if he's outside of a one block radius of the apartment, and keep sending us directions on how to find him while showing us a map."

I watch as Ana picks up Ozzie and fits him with his new collar. At first he doesn't seem too fond of it, but in seconds he forgets its there when she shakes his stuffed toy at him as she puts him down. "Do you want to play with Chewy? Do you?" she asks excitedly. She has his full attention now and as she tosses Chewy down the hall, Ozzie runs after him like a madman.

"Can you start unpacking the bags while I wash my hands?" she asks.

As I unpack the bags, I see small blocks of multiple types of cheese – mozzarella, parmesan, romano, sharp cheddar, and even goat cheese. From the salad bar there are containers of fresh spinach, different types of minced onions, and chopped broccoli. Finally I pull out some prosciutto, ricotta cheese, figs, and a few pears. Is she cooking for an army? And who puts fruit on pizza?

Once her hands are clean, she reaches into the refrigerator and pulls out two sealed plastic containers, one with red sauce and the other with white sauce, followed by a vacuum-sealed bag containing a few meatballs. She puts me to work shredding the cheese into different small bowls – a first for me, while she pulls the double batch of dough from the bread machine. I watch as she divides it into six separate smaller balls of dough before she grabs a grater and stars grating the parmesan, then the romano. All the while, I'm still shredding the other cheeses. Clearly, she's comfortable in the kitchen.

She then sets the broccoli to steam on the stove, slices a pear and drizzles it with lemon juice from the refrigerator, and minces two of the figs. Once she's done, she pulls four round disks, about fourteen inches each from a cabinet. I glance at her questioningly. I can't help it. This is new for me.

"They are cardboard covered in parchment paper. If I go through the effort of making scratch pizza, I always make sure I make a stash for the freezer," she explains.

"That makes sense," I counter finishing up shredding cheese.

Her grin is contagious. "Elliot likes to toss the pizza crust to stretch it. In Portland, we had more pizza crust on the ceiling than in the oven. I prefer to hand stretch it, without tossing it. Kate prefers to roll it to the desired consistency so she doesn't get her hands dirty. Your choice Mr. Grey," she laughs as she throws me a ball of dough. "We're shooting for pizza crust that will fit on one of these disks or on the pizza paddle," she finishes pointing toward the large pizza paddle hanging in the pantry.

She shows me how to hand stretch the crust. In the time it takes her to do five, I barely manage to do one, and poorly. Still, it was a messy adventure. While her crusts resembled circles to a great extent, mine was a mutant oval and the crust was ultra thin. Regardless, I felt like I accomplished something.

When I open the white sauce container all I smell is roasted garlic and sharp cheese. It's a thick sauce and I can't help but sink my fingertip in and taste it even though it's cold. She has me take some of the sauce and add it to one of the crusts that's going to be a pizza for the freezer. She then has me add chopped broccoli, mushrooms, more roasted garlic from the refrigerator, a few cheeses, dollops of ricotta, and herbs before she eases into a large freezer bag and seals it with what looks like a commercial vacuum sealer in the pantry. We repeat the process with three more pizzas with different toppings and stick them in her freezer.

There is one regular crust left, which she allows me to top how I want it as she takes my mutant crust and splits it into two. I feel like a kid in a candy store. Time for a man's pizza – both sauces, sliced meatballs, spinach, onions, mushrooms, a little bit of all the cheese and herbs.

While I'm doing that she makes a small pizza with red sauce, fresh basil from the garden, ricotta, spinach, roasted garlic, and cheese, followed by a lightly sauced pizza with pear, figs, prosciutto, and goat cheese. Out of the three it's the smallest. She calls it a recipe she's wanted to try. There's enough pizza here to feed five.

"We'll have leftovers for lunch tomorrow," she smiles as we head out to the pizza oven with the pies in hand. Once we pop them into the oven, we sit outside with a glass of wine.

"What is he doing?" I ask as I watch Ozzie humping Chewy like mad. "Isn't he too little to be horny?"

Ana laughs, her cheeks are flushed, and finally she covers her face with her hands. "All boys play with their thingies when they are babies, but in Ozzie's case, as a dog, he's showing Chewy who is dominant."

"Dominant?" I ask feeling uneasy.

"Ozzie's just make sure he's leader of his stuffed animal pack," she giggles.

Just hearing the word makes me feel sick – _dominant_. Fuck! If we're going to continue whatever this is between us, I know I'm going to have to come clean with her about my past and what my expectations of her are sexually. Do I want a dominant-submissive relationship? Can I really live without that type of control? My head is spinning. Can I do hearts and flowers? So far I have, but let's be real, it's been what, a few days? I've never done plain vanilla when it comes to sex, but with Ana, who knows nothing about sex, would she want to submit to me in all things sexual? Can I live without the use of a cane, crop, and other items from my playroom?

It's sensory overload, but the reality is, I know I haven't really thought too much about my playroom since the concert. Is this just a phase or a challenge to me in some warped way? Will I hurt her or worse yet, ruin her? She's innocent, pure, and good, but above all, there's a certain vulnerability about her that makes those she allows in want to protect her. In my case, part of me wants to protect her from myself. All I can offer her is an existence in my fucked up world, which I know from experience will rip out her heart and soul, leaving her an empty shell.

The storm consuming my mind is interrupted when my phone rings. I almost feel relieved but the uneasiness I feel makes me want to drag someone into my playroom and just lose it.

"Grey," I answer. I listen to Ros ramble on about missing a signature on page three of the preliminary SIP agreement that is due in Roach's hand in an hour.

"Can't it wait until morning?" I ask. Apparently not if I want to close early next week. "I'll be at GEH in ten minutes."

I apologize to Ana and explain that I need to sign acquisition papers that need to be delivered tonight so the deal can be finalized next week. She looks so disappointed, but doesn't complain. Part of me is relieved because my brain is a shit storm of self-loathing and confusion. I need space and time to really think about this relationship with Anastasia. If I decide to proceed, it's uncharted water for not just me, but for her as well.

"Will you come back to eat?" she asks. I can hear the hope in her voice. She wears her heart on her sleeve, there's no missing she's saddened by the unexpected change in our plans.

"Hopefully," I sigh as I head inside to put my shoes back on. Then I stop. I dismissed Taylor until much later tonight. He was going to take Gail out to dinner at Mile High. Part of me is thrilled, yet the bigger part of me is off-balance. I feel like I'm trying to stay upright while sailing through a hurricane. I kick off my shoes and look over at Ana. "Taylor is out until later. I'm stranded here," I do my best to grin despite the tumultuous doubt coursing through me. She smiles back but her eyes belay her growing anxiety.

"You could always take Wanda," she offers hesitantly.

I know all about her ancient blue beetle from Elliot bitching about it and the background check. He called it a death trap, though I know it's newly restored and now as safe as it can get given it's age. Still, given my position, I can't be seen in that thing, plus if anything were to happen in terms of a security threat while in it, I'd be compromised.

"I have a better idea. Would you mind if Ros came here with the paperwork?"

I'd sell my soul to see the grin that was now on her face every moment of every day. "That works. There's more than enough pizza for one more."

I dial Ros, give her the address and ask her to bring the papers to me so I can make another pass at them and verify they have been fully vetted. I don't want Ros joining us for dinner. Hell, I don't really want Ros coming up here, but I've made my bed so I'll deal with Ros's mischievous grin, jokes, taunts, and inquisition for the next week if it means keeping that smile on Anastasia's face.

"Is something bothering you Christian?"

I hesitate as I decide how to respond. Reflexively I run my fingers through my hair as I pace the room. "I'm concerned that once you get to know the real me, you'll want nothing more to do with me."

She does that head tilt as she gazes my way while attempting to understand. "So the person you've been with me isn't who you normally are?" she asks. I can hear the unsettled hesitation in her soft voice.

I'm uncertain how to answer that exactly. "No," I sigh. "Normally, I'm a cold, harsh, dominant, asshole. I like being in total control of everything around me, in every way, shape, and form. The past few days have been wonderful, but unsettling. It's been like walking on wet cement and I can't find my balance. My therapist was correct, it's been exhilarating, yet-"

Finding the right words is difficult. Once again I pace the room trying to regain some semblance of self-control. I might not be able to control every last blessed thing around me right now, but at the very least I will control myself.

"Therapist?" she asks.

"For god's sake Ana, I'm fifty shades of fucked up," I snap at her, yet she giggles.

"Welcome to the real world Christian. Most of us are fifty shades of fucked up," she counters but I can see her nervousness grow as she begins to rub her left hand. I'd seen her do that before – the car ride to the concert, in my office when she first glanced at Kate's interview questions, right before she ran to the elevator and pulled on my tie so I was her level for that kiss. I ran my fingers through my hair when I was nervous, frustrated, or conflicted, and she rubbed her left hand. As far as nervous mannerisms went, that was an odd one. Why that one?

"All we can do is want to grow and take a few steps in that direction, even if they are small ones," she sighs before laughing nervously. "I've been fortunate because Kate and Elliot are two of the most well-adapted people I know. I have them to nudge me outside of my safety-zone. Without them and Ray, I would never done anything other than go to classes and work. I wouldn't have friends. I would have continued to isolate myself from every emotion – good or bad. After …"

She's fiddling with her left hand a mile a minute now. I can hear the horrified emotion in her voice as she continues. "After certain events in my life, the only person I trusted was Ray. I didn't let anyone into my armored bubble until I met Kate, and frankly, she was like a whirlwind when I met her because we shared an on-campus dorm room. She's highly intuitive, which is what is going to help make her a great reporter. Our first night in our dorm room, I barely said anything. Kate called me socially awkward. She wanted to swap our stories so we could bond. Like I was going to let that happen." She laughed nervously.

"But Kate already knew a big piece of mine," she sighed sadly. "We'd corresponded a few times as the university puts future roommates into contact with each other via email. It never dawned on me that she'd troll through the Internet trying to get to know me. The joke ended up being on me, because while I had no social media presence other than my writing, she found out … more. I was horrified to the point where I almost withdrew from school and went home."

"Fucking Kate," I can't help but mutter causing Ana to laugh nervously.

"I thought those very same words that evening, but you know what?"

"What?" I snap.

"She was the first person I ever spoke to about my past and it was liberating. Granted it took two glasses of wine to get me feeling _liberated_, but it really helped me. Before that night, I felt like a shaken soda bottle waiting to explode and it was consuming me. I was bordering on self-destructive. Kate saw it and provided a safe outlet for me. She's the best friend I ever had, but that doesn't mean there aren't times when I want to hit her over the head with a rock. I mean, she's Kate Kavanagh after all. I mean, she has balls of steel," she laughs.

"I can't stand her."

"You're kidding," she giggles. "Is it because you feel like she's not only capable of seeing your inner demons or that she will seek them out?"

My fingers are again running through my hair. "Both I guess."

"Do you feel like you are trying to jog on a big bowl of Jello cubes when you are around her?"

I can't help but laugh at her metaphor. It's perfect. "Absolutely."

"You need to realize something about Kate, she's the most loyal person you will ever meet. It's a trait she shares with Elliot," Ana explains. "She will never betray those that she cares about, or even the people they care about. Trust me when I say, Kate can be ridiculously over-protective."

Our conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door. "I'm going to check on the pizza, while you answer the door, since it's for you."

I watch as Ana heads to the patio before I open the front door for Ros. Ozzie, who had followed Ana to the patio, probably more for the delicious smells coming from the pizza oven, immediately runs inside barking his little head off at our visitor.

"So who is this little fellow?" Ros asks as she hands me the file folder, and then picks Ozzie up scratching his head. Immediately his tail wags like crazy.

"That's Ozzie," I inform her as I begin to peruse the acquisition paperwork. On the way out to the patio I grab my pen from my jacket. Ros stops dead in her tracks as she sees Ana placing a second pizza on a tray.

"Girlfriend?" she whispers in my ear. I can hear the mirth in her voice. Fucking Ros can be so annoying sometimes.

I shrug, ignoring her question. "Anastasia Steele, this is Ros Bailey, my COO at Grey House."

"Nice to see you again Ros. It's been a while. How are Gwen and the kids?" Ana greets her with a big smile. I'm shocked that they know each other.

Ros gives Ana a hug. "They are doing really well. It's been way too long. Elliot said you were locked away in Portland studying and couldn't make the last few parties at his place even though Kate was always there. All studying and no play makes Ana too much like Christian."

"Unlike Kate, I had to study hard to achieve my 4.0. To her it came naturally," Ana sighed. "Besides, I'm not a big fan of crowds and parties."

So they knew each other through Elliot. I was aware that Elliot and Ros were good friends, but this is just another potential issue for me if I seriously consider some type of a relationship with Ana. It would be more difficult to keep my personal life private.

"Care to join us for dinner?" Ana asks. I pray Ros declines her offer.

"Thanks but I'll have to pass. Friday is our date night and with Gwen pregnant we're heading back to the Pacific Grill so she can satisfy her craving for their meatloaf, Manchego mashed potatoes, and their Pumpkin Trifle" Ros counters. "She's eating for three, so I'm out-voted in terms of dinner venue. Once November comes and the twins are born, all bets are off though." She pauses for a moment. I know what's coming. I've known Ros for seven years. "So are you two dating?"

Part of me wants to respond, but I'm conflicted. Thankfully Ana takes the lead when she notices my discomfort.

"We're friends. My guess is Elliot's being over-protective and has Christian and Ryan checking up on me while he and Kate are in Barbados. He's afraid this little hillbilly kid from Montesano will get lost in the big, bad city," Ana laughs.

I can see Ros eyeing me trying to hide her disappointment at Ana's reply. "Too bad as I've never seen Christian so relaxed." She turns to me, grins and taunts, "Nice shoes."

"They are the latest model in hippy line by Bruno Magli," I counter.

Ros appears stunned. "Hell froze over. Christian made a joke."

Without even looking at her, I can sense Ana's confusion at Ros's statement. I don't think she believed what I told her earlier about being an asshole, but it's true.

"Where did you get this little guy?" Ros asks sensing some uncertainty around her. "We've been wanting to get the kids a dog and he's adorable."

"Ozzie came from a breeder about two hours or so from here. Last time I checked there were two puppies left from the litter," Ana informs her. "Give me a minute."

We watch as Ana heads into the apartment. The minute she's out of earshot, Ros turns to me and asks if I'm really not tapping that fine piece of ass. I ignore her but I can't help but glare her way.

"Shit, you really like her," she laughs as she puts the pieces together.

"Shut it Ros," I counter as Ana returns with her laptop in hand. They sit at the table and Ana shows her pictures and video of the remaining two puppies. They even call the breeder to set up an appointment for Ros and Gwen to go look at the puppies on Sunday. I can't help but laugh as Ana serves me a slice of each pizza, and even hands Ros a plate. Great, Ros is sticking around and ruining our date.

Over the next fifteen minutes we watch Beagle videos on the breeder's website, including one of Ozzie with the breeder trying to teach him to howl when he was just a few weeks old. It's adorable.

"This pizza is awesome," Ros states as Ana serves her another slice and I pour us more wine. "Are they all homemade?"

"They are. Christian and I made them a little while ago."

"Wait, Christian, the king of not knowing how to boil water, helped make scratch pizza?" Ros asks.

"Ana made the dough and the sauce. All I did was helped put them together," I explain.

"I wish you recorded Christian cooking. I would pay to see that," Ros laughs.

"Don't you have to take your wife to dinner?" I ask pointedly. Ana looks aghast at my query.

"Well, since this isn't a date for you two, then I'm not interrupting anything," Ros counters with a grin. "Besides, I'm catching up with my old friend Anastasia. So Ana, have you found a job in Seattle?"

"I'm an intern at Seattle Independent Publishing."

I can see the gears practically spinning in Ros's thick head as she avoids glancing at me, but rather glances at the newly signed paperwork. "That's great," Ros finally replies. "It's a good company to work for and I hear great things are going to be happening there in the not too distant future. Who knows, maybe that book you've been working on can be published by SIP one day."

She's writing a book? How do I not know this but Ros does? What else don't I know about her? "What type of book are you working on?"

"Elliot would call it Chick-Lit," Ana replies softly. I can see she's nervous, or is it embarrassment. Why would she be embarrassed?

"Oh come on Ana," Ros goads her. "I've read a few chapters. It's anything but standard chick-lit. It's a dark, brooding, coming of age, supernatural story where the main protagonist just happens to be a female. How's it coming along?"

"It's basically done. I'm giving it a final scrubbing and edit. Once that's done I need to see if it's good enough to secure a literary agent."

"When you're ready, talk to Gwen. She can help with that," Ros pushes her. "Based on what I've read, I know it's going to be good enough for publication and Gwen thinks highly of your abilities."

If Gwen, who worked for years as a book editor in New York, believes my Ana has talent, then I believe her.

"We'll see what happens once I feel it's ready," Ana replies dismissively. It almost feels as if she doesn't believe in her talent.

"It's time for me to head out," Ros announces. "I have to deliver this contract in the next thirty minutes. It was great seeing you again Ana. Christian, I'd say it was great seeing you too, but fuck, I'm sick of seeing your ugly mug."

I can't help but laugh. Ros can be a bigger asshole than I can be at times. It's one of the reasons I had to hire her. She was brilliant, didn't hit on me, and didn't take shit from anyone. While we were quite similar, we also complemented each other in that we were able to brainstorm together like no other partnership I'd ever seen.

"It was good seeing you too Ros," Ana happily replies as we accompany Ros to the door. "Say hi to Gwen for me."

The rest of the evening was quiet. We avoided returning to the awkward conversation Ros's arrival interrupted. Still, we laughed, listened to music, and even took Ozzie for a long walk, after Ana convinced me to throw caution to the wind and forced me to wear a hideous green California Polytechnic hoodie that belonged to Elliot. It felt strange when she pulled me into Kate's bedroom to search for the garment. Unlike Ana's bedroom, which had a romantic, intimate feel to it, Kate's felt like something out of a designer catalog – filled with creams and bright greens. The bedroom was smaller than Ana's, but I immediately understood why when I walked into the closet, which was larger than the actual bedroom. While her clothes and accessories filled the space, it was immaculately organized, unlike Mia's.

There was even a custom cupboard for Elliot with a stupid sign over it that proclaimed, _'Elliot's Junk'_. Ana opened the doors and to my surprise, my brother kept virtually an entire wardrobe here – shoes of all types, work clothes, casual, suits, and even formal wear. Clearly Elliot and Kate were getting serious. It was from this collection that Ana passed me the ugly green hoodie. Elliot was blonde, the green worked on him. While I understand from Mia that green is one of the best colors for redheads, to me wearing green makes the red in my hair stand out more.

We walked Ozzie for an hour, stopping at Fonté's Café and Wine Bar for a bit. We sat outside, enjoyed a glass of wine and a few chocolate croissants. Watching Anastasia eat sweets was incredibly sensual and erotic. I could have sat there just watching her forever, but Ozzie would not allow himself to be forgotten. He jumped on my leg and yipped, hoping for me to feed him from the table. Ana laughed and handed me a few dog treats from her pocket. I had Ozzie's full attention now.

"Ozzie sit," Ana commands him. He looks at her, then back at me, then back at her. She raises an eyebrow and finally he whines and sits. "As soon as we are done eating, you can give him the treats. I read that with Beagles you shouldn't feed them while you are at the table eating, even if they are training treats because you have to set yourself up as leader of the pack."

Once we finished our treat, I tried to teach Ozzie how to give me his paw. Every time I asked him, he'd sit. Apparently that was the one thing he knew how to do. Ana merely laughed as she held out a treat for him and said, _paw_. Ozzie didn't hesitate. He sat and gave her his paw. Clearly the little guy doesn't respect me enough to consider me part of his pack.

"In my defense," Ana offered with a grin, "I've seen him every weekend since he was born so he knew me. He's only known you a few days. I hope Gwen and Ros get one of the other puppies, then Ozzie can have more play dates. Elliot played with Ozzie after dinner at your parent's home and immediately placed one on hold for when he gets back from vacation."

We start walking back toward her apartment. Ozzie is whining his little head off and Ana picks him up. "It's been a long walk for such little legs," she coos at him. "Mommy's got you sweetie."

By the time we arrive back at Ana's, Taylor is parked out front and standing alongside the SUV. He doesn't look too happy that I was out walking around the Pike Market District without security. Knowing Taylor, moving forward, when I'm at Ana's and tell him he can leave until I call, he'll either stay downstairs or have a member of the team do it. It felt good to be normal and just wander the neighborhood with my girl. Who'd have thought I would ever feel that way? I find the thought oddly soothing.

We greet Taylor before I escort Ana and Ozzie back to her apartment. It's nearly midnight as I quickly discard my brother's hoodie, grab my jacket and tie, and head toward the door with Ana. Her cheeks are flushed as we walk toward the elevator. As we wait for the elevator to arrive, I push her against the elevator doors, crushing her body against mine as our lips meet, her lips part, yielding to my tongue as I explore her mouth. The fingers of one of her hands are knotted in my hair while the other is gently caressing my neck and jaw.

Neither of us notices the ping indicating the elevator has arrived. The doors open behind Ana and the pressure of my body that held hers against the doors, causes us to quickly fall into the now open elevator. I land on top of her, my legs between hers allowing me to feel her every curve. Our eyes meet, our cheeks flush, and a second later, I feel Ana's arms around my neck bringing my lips back where they belong – onto hers.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: Thank you for reading &amp; reviewing.<strong>_


	13. Chapter 13: The John Flynn Experiment

_**Author's Note: Remember, in this story, all POV's are either Christian or Elliot's – No one else's POVs will be shown. (Elliot is currently vacationing in Barbados, so we won't be seeing him for a chapter or two)**_

_**Pinterest dot com/xwingana/off-key-life**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 13 – The John Flynn Experiment<strong>

A complete and total breakdown of my self-control was occurring at this very moment on the floor of the elevator in Anastasia's building; or should I say, the only thing that was between my body and the floor of the elevator was Anastasia's soft, conforming, and oh so arousing body. The vulnerability I feel when we are together is disconcerting, yet ridiculously exciting. The elevator air bristled with raw, unbridled passion as I feel her squirm beneath me. With my submissives, it had always been about releasing tension – no feelings, no chemistry, no emotions, and most of all, no attachments. This was different. There was something almost innately primal about my feelings for Anastasia. With these emerging feelings came the terrifying sense of vulnerability within myself, but also forced me to see her overwhelming vulnerability and innocence.

Suddenly I felt as if a bucket of cold water was thrown on me as the phrase, _you'll ruin her Grey_, echoed through my mind, but rather than growing weaker with each repeat it grew hauntingly louder until I thought my head would explode. I pulled away from Anastasia and got to my feet. Confusion was etched on her face as she sat up, but she didn't pull her gaze from mine. Her head tilted slightly and I knew she was attempting to figure out what happened to make me distance myself from her. As the elevator descended, I pulled her to her feet. She continued gazing at me uncertainly as she attempted to get her breathing under control. Now I knew how Elliot felt when she stared at him until he cracked. Those blue eyes felt like they could see right through me from the moment I saw them, but now I couldn't help but wonder if they worked on everyone.

"I apologize for pushing you too far too fast," I practically stammer, knowing deep down I'm lying to her face. I'm grateful the doors open and we exit to the lobby.

"As I recall, once we tumbled to the ground, it was me who took the lead," she blushed. "So tell me Christian, what is really bothering you? Does this have to do with our conversation earlier?"

All I can do is nod for a moment. "I need to figure some stuff out."

She sighs nervously. "Do what you need to do Christian. I'm leaving here tomorrow at eight a.m. for the Regrade Dog Park at Third and Bell. If you still want to come with us, I'll be making breakfast around seven thirty."

The second I nod in understanding, she turns and heads back into the elevator, but rather than hitting the button for her floor and moving to the center of the elevator, she remains standing near the control panel. All I can think is she doesn't want me to see the look of disappointment. Yet as the doors close, I stand here like a fool waiting for chance to capture another glimpse of my Anastasia. I don't.

The ride back to Escala is quiet and quick. On a normal Friday night, I'd return home from work, hit the gym, and by eight my latest submissive would arrive. I'd proceed to screw her senseless, then sit at the desk in my office and work a few hours all the while feeling nothing more than some stress relief. Tonight however, I sit in my home office feeling unsettled, sipping a glass of wine as I allow my thoughts to wander.

Until today, the days I've spent with Anastasia have been more fulfilling and relaxing than any day spent with a submissive, yet we haven't had sex yet. Hell, we haven't even gotten close to having sex. This is entirely a new experience for me. I'm at a loss regarding how to proceed. Do I end this before I damage her emotionally? I don't deserve her. She deserves someone infinitely better than I will ever be, but I'm a fucking selfish prick and more than anything, I want her. Can I live without the control I so desperately need in my life? Could she or would she submit to me even though I honestly believe there isn't a submissive bone in her body? More than anything, I want to deserve her, but I don't. In this entire internal argument running through my mind it's the only thing I'm one hundred percent sure of – I don't deserve her. A close second at ninety-nine point nine percent is the fact that I will leave her emotionally scared and damaged when it ends, because eventually, her rose colored glasses will come off and she'll see the real me, the deranged, unlovable monster.

My cell ringing interrupts my ruminations. Who the fuck is calling me at eleven p.m. on a Friday night? "Grey," I answer unable to keep the annoyance out of my voice.

"That's a fine way to greet your mother," I hear my mother chuckle at the other end of the line.

"Is everything okay? Are you okay? Are dad, Mia and Elliot okay?" I ask urgently. My mother never calls after nine at night unless it's an emergency.

"Everyone is fine Christian," she soothes. "I'm up late pulling together last minute details for the Coping Together Gala tomorrow night. Your dad picked Mia up from the airport this morning and some of her luggage was misplaced. I was wondering if you could send someone to the airport in the morning to retrieve it and bring it here when you come tomorrow night, as we'll be busy making sure everything is set up properly."

I pause before I respond. I had no intention of going to the gala tomorrow night. I thought Olivia RSVP'd with a fat check that way. "Mom, I have an international call tomorrow night that I can't move. I had Olivia RSVP with a donation."

"You're coming Christian. You can excuse yourself to take your call in the privacy of your father's office, but you need to be here," she ordered softly but firmly. "Your sister flew in from Paris for the Autism concert and then flew back for her last week of classes. Elliot and Kate can't fly in due to a storm, though they intended to and had tickets. If Mia can rush home from Paris, and Elliot can at least try to get here from Barbados, then you can make the effort to take the thirty minute drive from Escala to Bellevue."

I chuckled. "Yes mom. I'll be there."

"Good," she sighed. "I invited Ros and Gwen to take Elliot and Kate's places at our table. That leaves one empty seat as Ethan Kavanagh was going to fly back with them. Please find someone appropriate to fill it for me so I don't have to worry, because if you don't, I'll have to move Mia's friend Lily to our table and I know that her fawning all over you would drive you insane."

"So you're blackmailing me?" I chuckle.

"Most definitely," she laughs.

"Just move Elena up to our table," I inform her. "Problem solved."

I can hear her disappointed sigh. I know she expects me to bring a date to events, yet I never had. I'd rather disappoint her now, than pay someone to come with me to make her happy, only to then continue lying about why we are no longer together, when we never truly were together in the first place.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow Christian," she whispers softly. God I hate hearing disappointment in her voice.

"Good night mom. I love you," I reply.

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><p>The only thing worse than tossing and turning all night in bed, is finally falling asleep and waking up to the same nightmares that haunted me since my childhood. Over the course of my life, between my parents and on my own, we've spent literally hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to work through my issues, yet the only good night's sleep came since I started spending time with Anastasia. Yet no sooner than I contemplate stepping back from her, the nightmares return but worse. It feels like my subconscious is reminding me I'm not worthy of her. Fuck my self-conscious.<p>

I know I don't deserve her, but that didn't stop me from getting out of bed at six a.m., showering and getting ready to head to Anastasia's place for breakfast. I'm the moth to her flame, yet I can't escape the feeling that neither of us will survive this exploration of a relationship in the end. All I want to do is spend as much time with her until I figure this entire relationship or non-relationship out. Now what the hell does a person wear to the dog park? After spending ten minutes rummaging through my dresser, I put on a pair of dark grey Khaki shorts, a cream colored t-shirt and my oldest pair of boat shoes because who knows what I might step in there.

After a quick cup of coffee, I head out letting Sawyer know that I'll be on my own today and I'm taking the R8. Taylor has the day off, as it's his time to visit with his little girl Sophie. Sawyer doesn't look happy, but I don't give a shit.

"And your schedule for the day Mr. Grey? I will arrange for security to follow you at a discrete distance," Sawyer states firmly.

"Taylor's orders?" I ask with a smirk. I knew it was coming. I need Taylor. He's been with me too long to lose him. So after wandering around Pike Market District last night without a CPO, he won't allow it to happen again or he'll walk. I know how Taylor's mind works.

"Yes sir," Sawyer responds.

I sigh, matching my mother's defeat from the night before. "I'm heading to SeaTac to pick up my sister's misplaced luggage. After that I'm having breakfast at Miss Steele's apartment at seven-thirty and accompanying her to the dog park at Third and Bell around eight. Beyond that I'm playing it by ear, though I need to be at Bellevue tonight by five p.m. so I can take my conference call from my father's office and attend the Gala tonight."

"Forgive me for asking Sir, but will Miss Steele be accompanying you to the Gala tonight or attending on her own? She is on the screened list of attendees as she was supposed to attend with your brother and Miss Kavanagh," he asks.

The shock on my face must reveal that I had no idea she was attending because suddenly Luke appeared uncomfortable. "Up until eleven last night I wasn't planning on attending, so I'm assuming she is going on her own, though Elliot and Kate are stuck in Barbados due to a storm. I will discuss plans with her this morning and we'll adjust our evening plans accordingly."

"If you would prefer, I can arrange for Ryan to retrieve Miss Grey's luggage from SeaTac and deliver it to Bellevue," he offers. "Reynolds and I will discretely accompany you and Miss Steele to the dog park this morning Sir. Taylor is concerned that certain media outlets might are sniffing around your friendship with Miss Steele and has asked that we prevent them from acquiring photographs of the two of you together. For this reason it is my preference that you do not take the R8 or one of the Audi's to Miss Steele's or the dog park. They are too obvious as the media has grown familiar with our normal vehicle fleet, plus the R8 affords little privacy."

"What do you suggest Sawyer? My entire motor vehicle fleet are Audi's," I snap at him.

I watch as he reaches into his pocket and hands me a small key chain containing a single key and an auto-start remote. "I brought my private vehicle in so you will be able to travel with a sense of anonymity. It's a fully loaded Xterra Pro-4 with tinted windows for privacy."

"I appreciate it Sawyer," as I take the keys from him.

"Reynolds and I will follow discretely in one of the small Audi's."

"We'll head out at seven-fifteen then," I inform him before heading to my office to answer a few emails until it's time to go.

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><p>At seven-thirty I stand outside the door to Anastasia's apartment and ring the doorbell. The sight of her takes my breath away. She's wearing a simple outfit – small washout denim shorts, an oversized grey, sleeveless t-shirt with the image of a bird in studs on it, charcoal grey sandals that almost look like boots, and her hair is in a loose French braid thrown over her shoulder.<p>

Ozzie jumping on my leg and barking to get my attention interrupts my revelry. I reach down, pick him up and rub his head before I lean in and kiss Anastasia's soft, full lips. "Good morning. You look beautiful."

She blushes. "Thank you. As always, you look quite dashing, yet casual."

Taking my free hand, she leads me to the breakfast bar. As she places Ozzie's bowl of food on the floor, he instantly begins squirming in my arm, so I put him down. He immediately begins to chow down. We both wash our hands, then as Ana serves us a breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs, bacon, home fries, and wheat toast, I pour myself coffee and fill her cup with hot water from the tea pot that's beginning to whistle on the stove.

"We're going to have to postpone the art museum today," she informs me over breakfast. "Elliot and Kate were supposed to fly in this morning for a fund raiser and fly back out tomorrow, but they are stuck in Barbados due to a storm. I was supposed to attend with them, but instead I need to get there around one p.m. to take Elliot's place and help set up. I promised your sister I would help her when she called me this morning in a panic."

I couldn't stop the anxious chuckle that escaped my lips. Anastasia was already part of the Grey family, so whether I walked away from this relationship or not, she's an honorary Grey in their eyes through Elliott, which adds another complicated layer into my dilemma. If I pull back will we be able to establish ourselves as just friends and nothing more? Or will we move forward and when I hurt her, because it's just a matter of time, will my family chose her over me? I mean, I haven't been the ideal son but I will lose everything if I leave her broken and as fucked up as I am.

Somehow I manage to cease the ramblings running through my mind and focus my attention back toward Anastasia. Her posture has changed from relaxed to tense – her shoulders straighter, her eyes aren't open quite as wide, her breathing appears a bit quicker, and she barely makes eye contact with me now. She noticed my internal struggle, of that I have no doubt.

The awkward silence continues over breakfast. I offer to put the dishes in the dishwasher while she gets Ozzie ready for his first outing to the dog park. When he sees the leash he begins prancing around excitedly. I watch as Ana commands him to sit. Once he does she puts his leash on and places a small bag of treats, a towel with Ozzie's name monogramed on it, a small plastic bowl and a bottle of water into her oversized knapsack.

As we head down in the elevator, I explain the need to drive to the dog park. She laughs as I recount how my head of security insists upon it after seeing me walk through Pike Market District without protection last night.

"Oh the irony," she giggles. "It's amusing that a man who believes he needs total control to not be able to control his own hired security."

I can't help but grin at her smart remark. "I hire the best, so if I want them to remain in my employ, I need to allow them to perform their job as they see fit. They are the experts after all. And before you ask, yes, it can be quite annoying at times."

We step out of the elevator and head toward the building exit. I open the door to Sawyer's Xterra and motion for Ana to get inside before I head to the driver's side once again covering my eyes with my dark Aviator sunglasses. The short drive is quiet as Ozzie sits on Ana's lap watching out the window with his tail wagging a mile a minute. I swear, one day he's going to take off like Charlie Tango. As we arrive at the dog park, Ana pulls two Mariner's baseball caps from her purse and hands one to me before putting the other on her head. She then puts on her over-sized dark sunglasses before we step out of the car.

I have to admit, I like the dog park. Most of the animals are off-leash, except Ozzie due to his size and Ana's protective nature. She explained why he'll remain on-leash during his first few trips here because she's afraid of losing him as he's so small. Still, we spend the next two hours running with him, allowing him to jump into a small kids pool that's set up for the dogs, roll around in some grass, and play with other small dogs.

If you'd told me going to the dog park was going to be exercise, I wouldn't have believed it; yet it was. Ozzie was covered in a combination of dirt, woodchips, and grass. There was nothing more calming than watching him run with Ana behind him as his little ears flapped in the wind. He played with other dogs, socializing with both humans and animals alike. Finally, when he could run no more, I watched as Ana took him to the hose and rinsed him off before wrapping him in a soft towel from her over-sized knapsack. The little guy could barely keep his eyes open by the time we returned to the car.

As we drove back toward her apartment, it was nice knowing I went unrecognized during this normal activity. I also have to admit it felt good knowing Sawyer and Reynolds were nearby just in case. The last thing I want is my picture plastered in the paper with Anastasia's since I honestly have no clue if or how this relationship is going to proceed. Fuck, the mental tug of war was once again beginning in my twisted mind. With each incident I feel Ana slowly stepping back from me emotionally. I understand why. She's protecting herself. She put herself out there for the first time ever and I'm already hurting her.

By the time we arrive back at the apartment, awkward doesn't even describe the mood between us. Her body is wordlessly screaming that she's anxious – she's fidgeting, she's rubbing her left hand and fingers as she does she she's nervous, she's biting her lip, and she's talking softer yet faster as we reach the door. That lip biting gets me every time and sends me off into my erotic thoughts about those lips and what magic they could work on a certain extremity.

"Well Christian, I've got to give Ozzie a bath before I take him to Kristie's for the evening so he's not alone," she explains distantly. "After that, I've got to shower and pack up my stuff so I can head over to your parents home to help set up."

The heart that I repeatedly claim doesn't exist is pounding in my chest as I realize she's trying to get rid of me as quickly as she can. The look of sadness and desperation in her pale blue eyes just slays me. I'd give anything to take that look away. Yet, deep down a small amount of sadness on her part now is better than completely obliterating her later.

"Hopefully I'll see you tonight at the Gala if my conference call doesn't run long," I inform her before I turn and head toward the elevator. I feel like a cold-hearted son of a bitch for walking away from her without kissing those plump lips farewell. Now all I have to do is avoid her tonight at all cost. I'll make a brief appearance for dinner during this event, then return to my father's study feigning work related distractions or just leave altogether.

All I can think as I head home in Sawyer's car is that I'm a dick. Hell, calling myself a dick is understating it. Finally after mentally castrating myself for ten minutes, I pull over into a nearby parking space, grab my phone and dial John Flynn's private number.

"Hello Christian, it's good to hear from you," he greets me.

"John, are you anywhere near your office?" I ask as I repeatedly run my fingers through my hair.

"No but I'm a block away from Escala running errands. Are you home? I can stop by."

I inform him that I'll be home in five minutes, give him the code to the underground parking garage, a spot number, and agree to meet him there shortly.

Ten minutes later we are sitting in my living room. Actually, if I wanted to be honest about it, he's sitting and I'm pacing like a lunatic. I'm fairly certain, if I keep running my fingers through my hair the way I am, I'll be bald before I'm thirty. When I finally stop and glance at John, the fucker looks amused.

"What's so funny?" I snap at him.

"I've been waiting for this call Christian," he laughs, yet oddly I almost feel like he's proud of me. Sometimes I find this particular Brit confusing and unreadable. "You opened yourself up to new experiences and with each one it's pulled the rug that is your perfectly orchestrated control a little bit more from beneath your feet."

"Well fuck you John, because I'm sinking here and you're smirking like a my idiot brother."

He chuckles. God some days I hate him. I wish we would have kept it professional and had not become trusted friends.

"Tell me about your week so far," he asks calmly.

I feel like I'm a shaken bottle of Bollinger and the cork just came out. I tell him about each day with Anastasia and Ozzie, what we did, where we went, what it's like between us. I hold nothing back. Hell, I'm rambling on and on, when suddenly it hits me – when we are apart she never calls or texts me. "Fuck John, we've seen each other every day after work, spent time together, ate dinner yet during the day she never calls, texts, or emails me. Does she not want me? Is she just putting up with me to be polite? Or is she after my money and this is her way of subtly playing hard to get?"

"Does she have your phone number to call or text? How about your email address?" he asks watching my reaction closely. "And why haven't you texted, called, or emailed her? Is it that you want her to pursue you so you can feel validated?"

My mind races back to all of our interactions – the flight from Portland, the interview, graduation, and our time in Seattle and it hits me like a one of the heads of Mount Rushmore rolled down the mountain and landed on me. "Fuck! I never gave her my contact information."

"But you have hers?" he asks curiously.

"Of course I do. I ran a background check."

"So you never asked for hers and even though you had it, have never used it?" he chuckles.

"What the fuck is wrong with me John? I mean, other than the fact that I have no fucking clue what I'm doing. One minute I can't spend enough time with her, before I flip at the drop of a hat and distance myself from her."

"Why do you distance yourself from her? You clearly enjoy her company. I've never seen you appear happier than when you talk about her. You look ten years younger. So if this week is any indication, I'm going to diagnose you with clinical contentment, maybe even happiness, with a side order of conflicted emotions. So again, why the emotional distance?"

I begin pacing once again. "I'm trying to save her from my fucked up existence. Every time I pull away, she pulls back emotionally. There is nothing worse than sensing her growing anxiety, seeing her disappointment and knowing that it's my fault. There's so much at risk if I even consider attempting to move forward, however we define it – a relationship, she becomes my submissive, or who knows what."

"What do you mean?"

"She's connected to my family and even people at GEH, so if this implodes a clean break is impossible. She's Elliot's songwriting partner. She's Kate Kavanagh's roommate and best friend. She's a friend of Mia's because of her relationship with Elliot. Ryan, one of my CPO's is in Elliot's band and is friends with her, as is his girlfriend. Ros Bailey, my COO, knows her because of the mutual connection with Elliot and apparently they know each other quite well. She knows my mother because she's going to Bellevue in a few hours to help set up for the Gala in Elliot's place. I feel like I'm living in a house of cards and she's the trigger for my life to all come crumbling down. If I hurt her, I will lose my family. Ros could potentially leave my business as Ana's spent time at Ros's place with Elliot. Hell, Ros and her wife Gwen know her better than I do."

"Let's take a few steps back from the emotional ledge," he tells me as I plant myself on the couch across from his and rest my head in my hands. "First and most importantly, taking everything else off the table, do you enjoy spending time with this Anastasia?"

"Yes," I mutter not moving.

"Why?"

"Because I feel normal. Yes I'm still rich, but the reality is, we do normal things. She's smart, well read, a great conversationalist once she gets past her shyness. We share common interests in art and music. She expects nothing from me other than friendship. She's perfect."

John fucking chuckles again. "I read that file you sent over on her Christian. She's far from perfect if you read between the lines. Her shyness comes from mistreatment in her past, which she apparently has never overcome. She's never been out on a date; unless you count the times you two have spent alone together. She's insecure because she was severely traumatized as a teenager, but she has something you have never allowed yourself to have."

"What's that?" I mutter bitterly.

"An emotional support system." Instantly I stare at him in shock. "She's been through a great deal. Like you, she has reasons not to trust people, yet she allowed Kate and Elliot into her life. Those were huge steps for her and they've made an immeasurable difference. Don't you think you deserve the same? Maybe Anastasia is your first step to truly allowing someone to not only get close to you but also become the first stone in the foundation of a true support system. I mean right now I'm the closest thing you have to a real friend other than Elliot, who knows nothing about your life while he knows just about everything about hers."

"So my family is slowly giving her all the love and affection that I won't allow them to give to me. What do I do?"

"Your family has so much love and affection to give they could let dozens of people in and they'd still have more, but you have to allow yourself to receive and reciprocate those affections," he counters. "Your self-loathing is holding you back. I read the article Anastasia wrote for the paper. Hell, half the country read it. I'll be the first to say, she nailed you perfectly, but you won't allow yourself to see the real you. More than anything Christian, you of all people deserve to be truly happy, yet you continue to fight it tooth and nail."

All I can do is stare at him blankly. I know he's right but still, I sit there frozen. I watch as John leans closer to me and continues. "Your self-loathing stems from the first four years of your life. We've discussed this many times over the past few years. It's a point we agree on. The reality is, Mother Teresa as a small child could have been placed with your birth mother and the pimp and she would have been treated the same. How you were treated had nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. In terms you can understand – your pimp was a fucked up individual Christian. Your mother was probably nothing more than a lost soul who also was his victim. I mean, clearly she loved you because she kept you. She just didn't know how to protect you or herself. She was paralyzed by her own dysfunction."

He paused for a few moments allowing it to sink in. "You've spent the past twenty four years punishing yourself Christian. You've denied yourself emotional intimacy with your adoptive family since you were four. You allowed yourself to be re-victimized by a pedophile when you were a lost and damaged fifteen year old further instilling into yourself the belief that you are somehow unworthy of these types of intimacies. You've allowed that pedophile to remain an integral part of your life. For someone who values control in all things, your blind to the control and influence she has over you."

"So what do I do?"

"Before you do anything, let's try an experiment tonight, shall we? Then we can meet again tomorrow for coffee back here to discuss the experiment."

I nod.

"At tonight's gala, we'll both be there, Anastasia will be there and I can't wait to meet her, as will Mrs. Lincoln. How do you think Mrs. Lincoln will react if you pay any attention to Anastasia?"

I shrug.

"My guess is she'll make every effort to denigrate Anastasia in your eyes, make you feel like wanting or needing emotional intimacy is a weakness, and if she feels really threatened, she'll do her utmost to scare her away from you," he states with confidence. "How would you feel if a dominant did to Anastasia what Mrs. Lincoln did to you?"

"I'd kill him," I snap.

"So why was it acceptable that it was done to you? Why is it acceptable for it to be your reality, but not Anastasia's or Mia's or Elliot's? You don't have to answer that Christian but surely you must see your life is stuck in an infinity loop and it's time to break the cycle."

I sigh in frustration. It's all I can do because I know he's right.

"So for tonight your homework is to observe Mrs. Lincoln's reaction any time you are around Anastasia and immediately thereafter," Flynn informs me. "Step back from your past and just observe how Mrs. Lincoln acts when her control over you is threatened, regardless of whether that threat is real or imaginary. You also might want to have your security team watching out for Anastasia at the event tonight just in case Mrs. Lincoln attempts to confront her."

"Agreed."

"Does Anastasia have any idea about your BDSM history?"

I laugh wryly. "She's never dated before, much less had sex John. She knows I'm fucked up because I told her. She is well aware that I'm a control freak and finds it amusing. I've wanted to tell her but I know the moment I tell her, I will lose any chance I have with her."

"Christian, tonight just step back from all the conflict cluttering your mind and observe the people around you. Compare their words with their actions. Mrs. Lincoln tells you that she cares about you, yet are her actions consistent with her words? I know Grace and Carrick's are, and I'm betting Anastasia's are as well. With that said, I think it's time I head home so Rhian and I can get ready for tonight."

All I can think as I escort John to the elevator is I hope he's right, yet part of me hopes he isn't. God I'm fucked up.

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><p><em><strong>pinterest dot comxwingana/off-key-life**_


	14. Chapter 14: The Mouse That Roared

_**Remember – all POVs are from either Christian or Elliot's perspectives (and the studly blonde Mr. Grey is currently tanning on the beach in Barbados with a certain Miss Kavanagh)**_

_**Pinterest dot com/xwingana/off-key-life (updated 12/28/2014)**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 14 – The Mouse That Roared<strong>

My brain was on overdrive as Sawyer chauffeured the Q7 toward Bellevue. My expectations for the evening were a jumbled mess. Midnight, the scheduled event end time, couldn't come fast enough for me. I trust John Flynn, which is something I never thought would happen with a therapist. Out of all the psychiatrists and therapists I've had since my adoption, he's the only one I've ever respected. He's never mollycoddled or talked down to me. Hell, even though I don't exactly follow up on his advice, it's still stored in the recesses of my mind for future consideration. The small voice that is my subconscious is currently whispering to me – _now is the time to use it. Shit or get off the fucking pot Grey._

"Is security in order for tonight Sawyer?" I ask to distract myself from my revved up mind.

"Yes sir. Taylor is on site as his plans for the day ended earlier than expected, so he's leading the team this evening."

"Good, then I would feel better if you kept a close eye on Miss Steele tonight."

"Has there been a threat the security team hasn't been told about?" he asked glancing at me with concern through the rearview mirror.

"There isn't an active threat against her," I sigh not wanting to explain further, but John's suspicions regarding Elena's potential treatment of Anastasia if she feels threatened has left me on edge. As much as I want to admit it, John has never been wrong, so this experiment has sewn the seeds of doubt in my mind with regard to Elena. "I just want to make certain Miss Steele is treated with the appropriate respect by people this evening. While technically we are attending this event separately, my concern is that certain individuals might not approve of my association with her."

Again Sawyer glances back at me but smirks. "Understood loud and clear Mr. Grey. Miss Steele will be my number one priority this evening."

"When we arrive at Bellevue, I will be taking a conference call in my father's study. Prior to the call, I would like both you and Taylor to come brief me on security."

"Will do Sir."

Arriving at Bellevue I expected to see Anastasia's ancient Beetle parked near the house. I'm surprised it's not here. Inside we are greeted by the typical organized chaos that generally surrounds this type of function - decorators are placing the finishing touches on the table centerpieces and other over the top adornments; the catering crew is now in charge of the kitchen with sous chefs scrambling to complete as much prep work as possible; and outside the catering manager is completing the final walk through.

Thankfully my father escaped the _madness at Bellevue_, as he calls the preparations for events like these. His pre-event tradition includes two rounds of golf and drinks at the country club, before seeking refuge in his home office. I can't help but laugh knowing I commandeered his study today. As I enter the room, I can hear the sound-check taking place out back through the open window. I can't resist taking a glance out back to see if Anastasia is there. To my surprise, she is standing listening with Mia on one side of her and my mother on the other. All three are swaying to the smooth jazz music, but my eyes are firmly glued to Anastasia's swaying backside. She's wearing a simple pair of jeans, t-shirt, along with her battered chucks, yet I've never seen a more attractive sight. Sometimes I wonder if that delectable ass is swaying just for me. The thought leaves my pants that much tighter.

"Time to start getting ready," I hear my mother inform them. "We've done everything we can do at this point and we have less than two hours before the guests begin arriving."

As Taylor and Sawyer enter, I close the window and take a seat in a nearby armchair, while they take their places on the couch across from me. After a brief security run through, which was truly unnecessary, I can't help but get to the reason why we are here.

"I've asked Sawyer to keep an eye on Miss Steele this evening," I inform Taylor. "I have some concerns regarding how she will be treated by certain individuals if the nature of our friendship comes to light."

"By certain individuals," Taylor begins eyeing me curiously "you mean Mrs. Lincoln, correct?"

I nod. "Do not interfere unless Anastasia finds herself in a position you feel she can't handle Luke," I order. "I'm not expecting an issue, but I'd rather be prepared for the possibility. While she outwardly appears quiet and shy, I believe she knows how to handle herself in a verbal confrontation. Mrs. Lincoln tends to arrive early to spend time with my mother, so my advice is start watching for her now because there have been occasions where they get ready together. My guess is since the salon closed just a few minutes ago, Mrs. Lincoln should be arriving here shortly to prepare for tonight."

"I'm on it," Luke responds before heading out of the office.

Once the door is closed, I just stare at Taylor. He's at my side just about every waking hour of the day. He's seen the good, the bad, and the dysfunctional sides of me first hand. "Anastasia is here as Elliot's guest. She is representing him as he couldn't make it due to inclement weather restricting his travel," I begin uncomfortably. "I wasn't supposed to attend tonight due to this call in a few minutes, so I had no idea. Now we are both attending separately, as acquaintances, nothing more. I met with Flynn at Escala earlier today. As you have probably guessed, he's concerned." I can't help but stop, unable to find the right words. After a few moments of awkward silence, Taylor intervenes.

"Permission to speak freely Sir?" he asks. I nod and he continues. "You know your entire security team is completely loyal to you. I know you are aware of that, but what you aren't aware of is not one member of the security team likes or trusts Mrs. Lincoln. Luke and I are the only two that know the full extent of your past with her. The rest of the team just despises Mrs. Lincoln for how she treats those around her. She hit on Luke once and he informed her that he wouldn't touch her with someone else's dick, much less his own."

I can't help but laugh. Luke Sawyer was a good looking, intelligent, and direct person with a wicked sense of humor. It's not difficult to imagine him putting anyone in his or her place, much less Elena. Her dominant shit wouldn't work on any member of my security team.

"I'm certain the good doctor has the same concerns I have regarding her reaction to whatever this is between you and Miss Steele." Taylor pauses for a second allowing his words to sink in. "Mrs. Lincoln likes to manipulate people for her own gain. She believes that she controls you and is responsible for what you've made of yourself professionally, which is a load of horseshit. Regardless of what you were like growing up, the self-discipline, intelligence and drive were always within you. There isn't a teenager out there who hasn't gone off the deep end at some point before pulling it together. It took the Marines to straighten me out so I'm speaking from experience. I know you Sir. You're a strong, yet stubborn individual. You would not have allowed yourself to fail. She might have sped up the process, but inflicted more damage along the way in my opinion."

"How long have you known?" I ask, shocked that Taylor was aware of how young I was when Elena introduced me to my lifestyle.

"I'm the head of your personal security. It's my job to know everything, even if it was information you didn't want me to know," he replies not taking his eyes from mine. "It took less than three visits from Mrs. Lincoln at GEH for me to realize she was toxic. I spent the next year figuring out the details."

I sigh. "Yet you stayed."

Taylor laughed. "What can I say – it was a good job, with a philanthropic employer, and I was Jonesing for a certain Mrs. Jones, whom I hope to make Mrs. Taylor in the not too distant future."

Even I can't help but laugh with him. "Flynn believes that if Elena feels threatened in her position within my life by Anastasia, that she will try to intervene and scare her off."

"Or worse," Taylor agrees. "I agree with Flynn's assessment. Luke will watch over Miss Steele from a distance. I took the liberty, while the ladies were setting up, to put a small microphone in the beading of Miss Steele's dress for this evening, so if there is a confrontation, we'll hear it live and have it recorded if we need it. I know it's a violation of her privacy Sir, but I firmly believe we need to err on the side of caution. My preference is to place a microphone in your lapel as well because my gut is telling me this is going to be an eventful evening. This will also allow you to be able to inform Miss Steele that this recording is standard security procedure for when a threat was made."

Reluctantly I agreed. "When Ros arrives, please send her my way. Her CPO is dropping her off in a few minutes so we can take this call together, before he heads back to bring Gwen later."

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><p>Ros and I spent two hours dealing with fucking morons on our call. I'm thankful for a mute button because Ros hit it repeatedly when she grew frustrated and couldn't resist muttering profanities. If the situation on the acquisition weren't so aggravating, it would have been humorous listening to Ros's rants.<p>

As the members of the company's board of directors began to once again bicker amongst themselves it finally got the better of Ros. Our eyes met, she smirked mischievously and I gave her a nod. I loved this side of Ros. There was nothing better than watching her go off on disorganized fools.

"Gentleman," she snapped loudly taking command of the call. "I think it's time I should remind you that your company needs GEH and not the other way around. You are wasting our valuable time by even taking our call if you are unable to reach a consensus regarding selling or shutting your doors in the near future. The reality is your company is replaceable to us. We have backup prospects that will more than adequately assume the roll we desire. Our interest in your company is in part driven by the fact that you are a large employer in an area with high unemployment. Mr. Grey believes your company can turn around thereby ensuring your staff has job security, which is an important issue for Mr. Grey. Clearly the financial well-being of your employees isn't a priority for the board and management teams. For now this call is officially over. Please be aware that the closer you get to closing shop, the lower our offer will be. In the interim, GEH will begin negotiations with the companies on our contingency list. Have a good night gentlemen." Ros immediately ends the call.

"God I hate those fuckers. They don't give a shit about their staff," Ros mutters.

I can't help but chuckle. "I swear Ros, your inner bitch is my best friend."

"I fucking loathe male chauvinist pigs, but I love putting them in their places. It's always so amusing when they can't handle a powerful woman. Not that I gave them the opportunity to do so," Ros laughs as she stands and straightens her gown. "I'm going to find my wife, which shouldn't be too hard as she's wearing bright green and rocking the hell out of her baby bump. I swear if she wears that dress in a few months she'll look like Mike Wazowski from _Monsters Inc._"

We head out to join the well-dressed crowd enjoying cocktail hour. Ros is absolutely right Gwen was easy to spot in vivacious green. Mia, in a pale pink fitted gown is on one side of her, while Anastasia, a vision in a simple, yet elegant blue gown on the other. Whatever they are discussing is humorous as they are constantly laughing. After the way I treated Anastasia earlier today I'm hesitant to approach her. I'm grateful my father pulls me away to meet some of his business associates as I was heading toward her with Ros. It was a welcome reprieve.

The next forty minutes were spent discussing business and current events with my father and his cohorts. Finally the announcement came that dinner would be served and reluctantly I made way toward the Grey family table where my parents, Mia, Elena, Anastasia, Ros, Gwen, and Mia's fucking friend Lily awaited. My empty seat was placed between Anastasia and Lily – how fitting. It amazed me how Lily, who was physically attractive, could wear a five thousand dollar beige dress and make herself look like an HBO documentary hooker. Her make up was fit for a punk rock concert rather than a thousand dollar per plate fundraiser. The girl has no respect for herself and no class. I doubt that will ever change.

The only other person who appeared out of place at the gala was Elena, who as always wore black, but while black can be elegant when it comes to formalwear, her outfit looked like something out of the closet of a dominatrix that was modified into formalwear. For who she is behind closed doors, it's appropriate, but it has no place here or on someone pushing sixty. It would have been more appropriate at a costume party thrown at her house with her kinky friends.

My mother wore an elegant ivory dress with black embellishments and appeared almost regal. My father's tuxedo featured a custom-made pocket square that matched her dress. Mia, Anastasia, and Lily were the same age, yet the difference in their dispositions was astounding; while Mia was fun loving and vivacious, she was also elegant and polished, especially since she let that awful bob hairstyle she'd gotten over a year ago grow out. How she became friends with Lily I'll never comprehend. Mia belonged in this world, Lily never would.

Gwen's bright green casual maternity gown was a reflection of the California girl she truly was and every time her gaze met Ros's, she glowed. Ros, who loathed getting dressed up, always stepped up to the occasion and tonight was no exception. Her black, strapless gown burst with accented colors of violet, green, and white was elegant, yet sexy. It fit Ros to a tee but if you told her that she'd laugh in her face. Ros always went for sexy, but elegant was optional. In my eyes, they were as perfect a couple as my parents were. They complemented each other in every way and no one could question their obvious devotion to each other.

Prior to today, I'd only seen Anastasia dressed up once for her graduation and she was stunning then in her casual dress, but now, this young woman from rural Montesano easily fit in with the upper crust of Seattle society. She was elegant, regal, intelligent, soft-spoken, and gorgeous – a true vision in blue. She wore no jewelry, allowing the dress and her body to speak for her.

Based on the admiring glances her way by many of the men in attendance, their wicked thoughts rivaled my own when it came to the delectable Miss Steele. At different times during the cocktail hour men had approached her for conversation, but I know better, they wanted more from her than conversation. These were the playboys of Seattle society and she was a new mark for them. Elliot used to be just like them until he met Kate, so I was all too familiar with the type. I would not allow Anastasia to become a notch on anyone's bedpost. It was then I noticed, her rubbing her left hand as she does when she's nervous and immediately Mia came and pulled Ana away from the fool. It happened on four occasions, so it was clear Mia and Ana had simple hand signals indicating interference was required. For that, I was grateful.

My mother introduced Anastasia to Elena and Lily as Elliot's writing partner and best friend to his girlfriend Kate. To my surprise, both women welcomed her warmly. Heck, Lilly looked upon her with admiration. I was thrilled that Anastasia would be the center of Lily's attention at this point as opposed to her over the top, unwelcome flirtations toward me.

"So Ana, what's it like being up on stage performing?" Lily asked in awe. "I was at the autism concert. You rocked it."

"Honestly, it was nerve racking," she replied softly. "I prefer writing music over performing. I would rather continue my current career path in literary publishing. You witnessed my one and only performance."

"But why?" Lily exclaimed in disbelief. "Your performance that night went viral. I thought the band was signed to do some outdoor concert next month that's exploding. It started with one alternative radio station and now its sister stations, across different genres, are supposedly joining in to create some huge televised international fund raising concert."

There was no missing the anxiety on Anastasia's face. Elliot was going to once again rope her into performing. "I will not be participating other than organizing the musical selections for the band and assisting Elliot find a female singer and keyboard player."

"But why?" Lily pushed. "You were a natural on stage."

"Thank you but if natural means taking a few shots of tequila in order to find the courage to stand before the microphone, I'll pass," Ana chuckles nervously. "I'm much more comfortable sitting in my reading nook with a book and a cup of tea than being the center of attention."

"But people are talking about you – you're buzzworthy. You're the_ 'it girl'_ right now," Lily insisted. "This is your moment."

Ana laughed anxiously, embarrassed by Lily's remark. "If you can sing and play the keyboard, you are more than welcome to try out for the lead singer position in the band. Give Mia a tape and she'll get it to me to see if you make it through the first level screening. Once Elliot comes back, the finalists will perform with the band and hopefully a decision made on my replacement."

"Really?" Lily exclaimed with excitement.

Ana nodded.

"So Ana, how do you like working at SIP?" my father asked helping turn the conversation back to Ana's comfort zone. "I've known Roach for quite a few years. He's a great guy, but a terrible golfer."

"So far so good. I'm still finding my way through the processes, but I love reading so it's the perfect job for me. Most of the people are welcoming while others are a bit too welcoming."

I can't help but wonder what she means by that. Ros and I share a quick glance, knowing this will be on our Monday morning agenda as an item of interest.

"Are you working in the fiction division?" Gwen asked. Ana nodded, allowing Gwen to continue. "I loved editing fiction. I once pissed off my boss in New York and she had me editing poorly written novels in their romance division for six months. There was no challenge in that because they were all fluff, no real intrigue, and no details to verify. I preferred editing crime dramas and the like because the details captured my attention along with the psychology behind the characters."

Ana smiled sincerely. "I believe we are wired the same way. Romance novels are fine if there is some action or intrigue to them, but give me details and a puzzle and I'm thrilled."

"Ros and I are heading to the breeders tomorrow where you bought Ozzie. Can I see his picture? Ros says he's adorable," Gwen asked.

I watched as Ana removed her phone from her clutch and scrolled through her gallery of pictures until she found the _Ozzie's Picture Gallery _I'd grown all too familiar with over the past week, and handed it to Gwen. "I'm a proud parent, so don't feel you have to look at them all. I've gone a bit mad when it comes to taking pictures of my little boy. If you want company tomorrow, Ozzie and I will gladly go with you as Elliot called me earlier today and asked me to pick up his puppy for him."

Ros agrees and they make preliminary plans with Ana as Gwen oohs and ah's over the pictures of Ozzie, sharing each image with everyone at the table. My heart stops when a mischievous grin spreads across her face the moment she turns the image toward me. "So Christian, I see you're an Ozzie fan as well," Gwen chuckles. Ros and Gwen are two people I trust implicitly, so their taunts are always welcome, even though at times I complain wholeheartedly.

Even before she turned the phone toward me, I knew which picture it was. There I was sitting on the floor of Anastasia's apartment, shoes and socks off, no tie, no jacket, shirt partially unbuttoned as I play tug with Ozzie. Just the thought of my time with Ana and Ozzie doing nothing in particular relaxes me. I can't help but wonder if this is what being normal feels like.

"How can you not be? He's adorable, mischievous, and a rogue in the making," I counter as Gwen shares more pictures of me playing with Ozzie, including pictures from the dog park this morning. My parents are grinning from ear-to-ear as they gaze between Anastasia and I. Mia is practically jumping out of her seat. Lily is now glaring at Anastasia, while Elena appears to have drank a glass of concentrated lemon juice.

"So are you and Anastasia dating?" Mia asks hopefully. "That would be so perfect since Elliot is practically living with Kate."

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my parents lean forward ever so slightly in anticipation of my response, while Elena shifts into a more dominant posture. Anastasia is frozen, barely breathing as she awaits my response. "No matter how I respond Mia, you will believe what you want, so it's easier not to feed your imagination and let it run wild on it's own."

My response clearly disappoints my parents and Mia. Ana still hasn't reacted. Elena knows me well enough to know I'm holding back. Let the Flynn experiment begin.

"So Ana, are you dating anyone?" Mia asks. Right now, all I want to do is reach across the table and choke my sister as she tries a different approach.

"Honestly, right now I'm career oriented. I worked too hard for my degree to not put it to good use, so I don't really have time or the desire for romantic entanglements. Perhaps once I achieve my professional aspirations, I'll consider entering the dating pool, but for now I need to retain my focus. Elliot asked Christian and Ryan to pop in on me while he is on vacation with Kate since I'm new in Seattle. Apparently Elliot feels that I'm a small town girl in the big city and need protection." Ana laughs.

"But don't you want a husband and kids some day," a confused Mia asks. I merely sit and listen, offering nothing to the conversation as I can feel Elena's glare focused my way. _Fucking Flynn 1, Grey 0._

"I'm twenty-one. At this point a husband and kids aren't in the equation," Ana responds softly, yet firmly. "I can envision myself adopting a few kids down the road, but in terms of a relationship, I honestly don't know. What about you Mia?"

Mia explains she wants to date, dance, and have fun for a while, but eventually she would like to settle down with a family. When Mia invites Ana out clubbing, she passes, as she doesn't do well with crowds.

"And professionally?" Ana asks her.

Mia explained how after studying the culinary arts abroad, she'd like to spend some time developing her own hybrid cuisine, testing recipes and eventually open up her own restaurant.

"Well, I love to cook, so if you ever need a sous chef during your development period, I'm game any evening. My door is always open and we have an extra bedroom set up if we experiment late into the night," Ana counters.

There's no missing the excitement in Anastasia's eyes. I know she enjoys cooking, so I shouldn't be surprised. The last thing I need is Mia hanging around Ana and Kate's condo. It will be hard enough to spend time with her, without Mia's constant presence. Hopefully Kate will spend most of her time at Elliot's as opposed to him spending time there.

"So Mrs. Lincoln, Mia mentioned that you own the finest salon chain in Seattle and you donate services to agencies who work with underprivileged people prepare for job interviews and employment. That must be quite rewarding," Ana asks shifting the topic of conversation.

"It's important to give back," Elena replies almost mechanically, like it's a rehearsed response. "At some point in everyone's life they've hit a rough patch. There is nothing better than watching someone transform before your eyes and knowing you've somehow helped. We coordinate our efforts with Coping Together and a few charities that specialize in providing gently used professional clothing for people in need heading to the interviews and into the work force, so it's a team effort."

"We could use someone to instruct our clients in professional writing," my mother adds. "Would you be interested in helping out?"

"Nothing would thrill me more Grace," Anastasia responds.

"Wonderful. I'll email you details of our next gathering."

"I look forward to it."

"Anastasia, are you the one who interviewed Christian for the university newspaper?" Elena asked. Ana merely nodded in response. "It must be quite the feather in your cap to have one of your articles picked up by Kavanagh Media and published across the country."

"Actually, I'm not technically part of the university newspaper," Ana explained. "I had met Christian that weekend when Elliot had him fly me to the concert because I had issues with my car. Kate was supposed to do the interview but got sick, so she made me go. I have no interest in working for the media."

"The article made us extremely proud of our son," Carrick smiled at her. "We've always been proud of his accomplishments but your article was truly inspirational."

Ana blushed. "I just presented the man I met at the interview. When Christian flew me here from Portland that day, I have to admit, I found him intimidating. Yet, his office is such an immense representation of the man behind the CEO mask, it set me at ease. Normally, I'm quite shy. I don't think the day of the concert I said more than ten words to him, but while his office at a first glance feels cold and sterile, the artwork indicates otherwise. It was actually quite revealing and made the interview easy because I no longer felt intimidated. I've gotten to know Christian a bit more after he spent time in Portland with Kate, Elliot and I. He's quite funny, though it was no fun when he tag teamed me with my father and discussed only fly fishing during the trip to my graduation lunch."

"He went with you and your father to lunch?" Mia asked in shock, while Ros smirked at me.

"Dad invited Kate and Elliot, but they had plans with her parents, so they met us later," Ana explained and dammit if she didn't glow as she recounted the day. My parents were shocked that I went out and did normal things, including miniature golf. Elena looked appalled.

My father glanced my way and there was no missing the amusement in his eyes before he turned his attention back toward Ana. "I hear you and your father are huge soccer fans."

I have to admit, I was proud of Anastasia, as she was knowledgeable about soccer. I enjoyed her lighthearted debate with my father. In the end, they called it a draw, agreeing to disagree whether Leo Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo was a better all-around soccer player.

By the end of dinner, the discussion topics moved between sports, current events, music, books, and politics. The only two who didn't have much to say at the table were Elena and Lilly. Lilly knew about music, but I doubt she'd ever read a book cover-to-cover. Elena could care less about any of the topics, so she remained quiet, but glared every so often at Anastasia when she thought no one was looking.

As dinner finished, the emcee began the auction. Every year my parent's friends and different organizations donated luxury trips, services, and tickets to sporting events. This year was no different. Anastasia appeared overwhelmed by the largess surrounding her as trips to Fiji, Hawaii, and Italy were auctioned off for exorbitant prices. Elena donated a year worth of full service care at Esclava, which went for a substantial sum of money to a woman, who spent more time there than anyone based on the books I'd seen over the years. She'd get her monies worth and then some. Elliot donated his services to draft architectural plans for a home or business that was snapped up quickly by the wife of a newly signed Seahawks player. The GEH donation was a month-long, all expenses paid vacation for six to Aspen including private jet transportation. I was pleased when the bidding far exceeded twenty thousand dollars.

"Will all of the volunteers or people who were roped into volunteering for the first dance auction please come to the stage," the emcee announced.

Mia immediately got to her feet and dragged both Ana and Lilly toward the stage, where they were part of ten women to be auctioned off. Anastasia looked terrified, while Mia was gleeful. After the first two women were auctioned off with a fake backstory, it was Mia's turn. I glanced at Sawyer, who merely nodded at me. Our historical agreement at this type of event kicked in. If I didn't approve of the highest bidder, all I had to do was look at Sawyer once the bidding began and he would make sure he had the highest bid.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, I present the lovely Mia, a vision in pale pink. Miss Mia is a gourmet chef, Olympic ski champion, and one day hopes to become the Pope."

I can't help but laugh at the Pope remark. The bidding begins at one thousand dollars but due to numerous bids, quickly grows to ten thousand dollars, leaving two asshole doctors from the hospital where my mother works bidding. I give Sawyer the nod. I can't help it. I loathe those two. Yes they contribute toward many of my mother's causes, but I've heard their reputations rival Elliot's in the past, so I won't allow my sister to become a notch on their bedposts. While Sawyer is the playboy of the security team, I know he won't set a finger out of line with her. Besides, I also know Mia thinks he's hotter than an erupting volcano, so him dancing with her will make her happy. In the end, Sawyer wins the bidding for twenty-five thousand dollars and takes Mia's hand as she walks down the steps from the stage.

"And now the beautiful Anastasia. Miss Anastasia works in publishing, is a gifted song writer, and loves base jumping."

"Five thousand," some asshole calls from a distant table.

"Six thousand," comes the bid from one of the assholes from the hospital.

"Seven thousand," the other asshole from the hospital bids.

Great, now I have three losers bidding on my girl. I decide to let the pack thin, but astoundingly the number climbs and the bidding continues. I'm surprised the bidding is at thirty thousand, until I approach the bidders and hear one of them rudely comment on her body and what he'd like to do with it, but they also mention the rumor that Anastasia and Elliot have sold a dozen of their songs and were about to hit it big, so the girl would soon enough be loaded.

All I could think was _fuck them_. I was going to end this, as Ana appeared mortified standing there as the bidding continued. I raised my hand, smiled at my Anastasia, and bid one hundred thousand dollars. I thought my plan worked, but John Flynn had other ideas. He smirked at me and bid one hundred and ten thousand dollars.

I know I should have fucked with him and allowed him to win, but he knew me well enough to know I would never allow that to happen. I raised my hand and bid two hundred thousand dollars. That shut the bidding down giving me the honor of holding Ana's hand as she came down the steps from the stage.

"Thank you Christian," she whispered. "That was the most embarrassing thing I've ever done. You will have to teach me how to tell Mia no in the future."

"Everyone has problems telling Mia no, so you are in good company."

As I escort Ana back toward the table, her arm was entwined with mine. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. We listen to Lily being auctioned off. In the end someone bought her first dance for five thousand dollars. The moron overpaid in my opinion. My victory was a bargain. I'd sell my soul to keep Anastasia away from those assholes.

Reaching the table, Ana excuses herself and heads toward the ladies room. "We have about ten minutes until the first dance," I remind her.

"I won't be long. Promise," she replies heading toward the house.

As I watch her leave, my mother pulls me across the yard and into the boathouse. Once she's certain no one can hear me, she begins. "So tell me the truth Christian. Are you dating Anastasia? You can't stop yourself from glancing her way and she does the same."

I'm shocked at my mother's directness. Normally she wouldn't push, yet she looks so happy at the possibility. Finally, I sigh. "Anastasia and I have spent some time together recently. She's wonderful but I don't know if you'd call it dating. Hell, I'm not sure what to call it at this point."

"Go on," she grins broadly at me.

It's rare that my mother gets pushy, but she's my angel. I can't deny her. "Honestly, I got to know her at the interview and we had a great deal in common. I didn't plan on spending time with her. Well, that's not exactly true. I wanted to spend time with her but she deserves a life with someone who can give her something better than my dysfunctional screwed up existence. When I presented diplomas at the university, she just floored me. It was difficult to stay away."

I explain about our evening discussing books on the rooftop deck, graduation, the mac and cheese challenge, the cupcakes, and the effort that went into collecting donations for food banks in my honor. "When her father asked Elliot, Kate, and I if we wanted to join them for their last big Portland outing, my brain said no, but my mouth said yes. I guess my subconscious made the decision to do the opposite of what my conscious mind ordered." I couldn't help but give my mother a nervous chuckle. "I had a great time with them. Ray's a great guy and Ana is spectacular once you get past her shyness." I know I'm now grinning like a lovesick fool, but I don't care. "We took her to try to play hockey, for donuts, and then to a local brewery where Kate and Elliot joined us before we headed off to play miniature gold. It was the best time I ever had, well, until she moved to Seattle. We've pretty much spent a few evenings together since just talking, cooking, sharing meals, playing with Ozzie, and listening to music."

"So you're not gay?" my mother asked nervously.

I laughed loudly. I couldn't help it. "Never have been, but I'm still young so there's time to explore all possibilities," I tease her. "Seriously though mom, I have no idea what this relationship is so I don't want people to know. Elliot and Kate have no idea, so I would prefer if you didn't mention it to anyone."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Christian, anyone that's exposed to the two of you can see there's a mutual attraction. Knowing your brother, he engineered the early times you spent with her because he wants you to be happy. You know how your brother is. He can't help but meddle here and there. It's his nature. Ana's a really good person. I've met her a few times over the past year with Elliot. He's come to me for advice about getting past her shyness and dealing with her past. I know your security team is cautious, so odds are they've run a background check on her. I know you understand the incident I'm referencing. Just take it slow with her and be honest. She's intelligent, rational, down to earth, and is a genuinely sweet person. You couldn't ask for more in a friend or a girlfriend."

How do I respond to that? This is the most direct she's ever been with me. "I just need time to find my way. For me, business comes naturally, relationships do not."

My mom smiles and leans forward, kissing my cheek. Just before she walks away, she adds, "Sometimes caution is supposed to be thrown defiantly into gale force winds and the results are spectacular. You deserve this type of happiness, so cast your doubts aside and let yourself enjoy the ride."

Her words leave me feeling lighthearted as I head back toward the gathering for the first dance with my Anastasia. I can see her in the distance, chatting with Ros, Gwen, and Mia. For the first time in my life, my world feels out of my control, yet in this moment in time it just feels right.

I can't help but laugh as Sawyer heads over to Mia. He dreaded this scenario playing out since his first weeks at GEH. Mia has had a crush on him from day one that was reinforced by an incident during a family vacation. Taylor assigned him to be her primary CPO during the trip as he easily intimidated other men by his sheer size and looks, but also because Mia would do whatever he said to please him. During that trip three years ago I took my family to Aspen we'd all gone out clubbing. Mia's dress was obscenely short, attracting too much attention as she danced. I was ready to murder the first guy that tried to take liberties with her on the dance floor, but before I could react, Luke left his post, took Mia by the hand pulling her away from the asshole, gave him one look, and danced with Mia for the last half hour of our outing. For an ex-Marine, he had moves. I can't help but wonder if she would ever get over her crush on Luke. At least now she got her wish, to dance with him again.

Luke arrived at Mia's side as I arrived at Anastasia's. We led them to the dance floor. Mia was giddy with excitement as she gazed up at Luke, while Anastasia seemed nervous. Once the auction couples and my parents, as the hosts, arrived on the dance floor, the band began playing _The Way You Look Tonight_.

Holding Anastasia close, I'm unable to pull my eyes from hers. There is so much I want to say to her, yet I can't find the words, so I continue to lead her in the dance. Finally, I rest my forehead against hers and apologize for my confusing behavior over the past few days. To my surprise, there's mirth in her blue eyes.

"W. Somerset Maugham in his novel _Of Human Bondage_ stated, _'It might be that to surrender to happiness was to accept defeat, but it was a defeat better than many victories.' _Have you read the book?" she whispered, not taking her gaze from mine.

All I could do was shake my head negatively against hers, as I didn't trust my voice. To hear her say _human bondage_ threw me, just like when she explained Ozzie exerting his dominance over his toy.

"He considered human emotions a form of bondage," she explains softly so only I can hear. "To a great extent I agree. We all have past experiences that leave us screwed up in some way. I mean, look at me. You are the first person I have been attracted to and the first man I've willingly allowed to kiss me. It's both exhilarating and scary as all hell because I feel like I'm building a house of cards that will eventually collapse and destroy my world, all because of some psychopath's dying words to me. Those words paralyzed me emotionally, until my attraction to you became greater than my fear of his words, but the fear remains and hopefully over time, it will lessen to an occasional whisper."

Our closeness and her intimate, revealing words drown out everyone and everything around us, even Elena's glare, which I noticed when we began dancing. _Flynn_ _2 – Grey 0. _

"I'm a screwed up mess," I sigh. "There's a tug of war going on inside me."

She laughs. "Welcome to my world. Perhaps our dueling sides can double-date."

I can't help but chuckle with her. "The shifts in mood would cause whiplash."

"We can have Ozzie be our referee and nursemaid," she counters.

The first song ends and as the next song begins, Van Morrison's _Moondance_, the dance floor fills, but I don't let her go. The entire dance, our gazes never part as I hold her body firmly against mine. We allow the music to dictate our movements. When the song ends, I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her to my side, leading her from the dance floor. Her arm wraps around my waist and I can't resist her lips when she gazes up at me. No sooner than our lips met, was the bubble shattered by Mia's excited exclamation to Lily "I knew it. They are dating. They are so cute together!"

Without releasing Anastasia, I tell Mia to lower her voice. She blushes with embarrassment, quieting down, but I swear she's jumping like bunny on crack with excitement. Lily is glaring at Anastasia now, which would be funny if it didn't piss me off so much. Less than an hour ago, Lily was enthralled with Anastasia. All it took was one kiss from me onto Ana's soft lips for Lily to go dark side.

I venture a glance over to Flynn, who I notice is eyeing Elena curiously. If looks could kill, Elena's glare at Anastasia would have her dead and buried a dozen times over. I lead Ana toward John and introduce them. "Anastasia Steele, this is John Flynn my friend and puzzle doctor of my mind."

Anastasia looks up at me confused as she shakes John's hand.

"He's my therapist."

She chuckles and turns her attention to John. "So you bid on me because you knew he would bid higher regardless of the amount? Isn't that similar to insider trading in the psychiatric world?"

"I did and yes it is, but it's for a good cause plus it allows me some type of revenge for his after hours phone calls," he states proudly.

"It shouldn't come as a surprise to you Anastasia that I can be high maintenance," I tease.

"You're definitely not alone on that front," she retorts as Gwen approaches.

"Can I steal Ana for a few minutes?" Gwen asks rubbing her belly. "I've been on my feet too long so Ros and I are going to be heading home, but I wanted to finalize plans with her for tomorrow."

"I'll be back shortly," Anastasia excuses herself with Gwen. Once they are out of earshot, John continues.

"Her interaction with your family, friends, and most associates is seamless," he comments. "I can understand your concerns but honestly, they appear to be unfounded. You appear content this evening and your family is thrilled. Have you been keeping score?"

"As I see it right now, it's _Flynn 2, Grey 0_."

John sighs. "Technically it's _Flynn 4, Grey 0_. You missed Mrs. Lincoln flip Ana off when no one was looking and breaking the stem of her wine glass when you kissed her. Her initial response is worse than I anticipated it would be."

I explain to John that both Anastasia and I are wired for the evening, so our security team will be aware if Elena causes any issues, but I have faith that in a verbal confrontation, Ana can hold her own. She may be shy and quiet when she doesn't know someone well, but she is quick-witted.

"I'm stealing my husband," Rhian Flynn announces with a smile as she walks over to us and without stopping takes John's hand and leads him to the dance floor.

It takes nearly a half hour to make my way back to my table, as people have stopped me to discuss business, sports, and even the weather. As most were associates of one or both of my parents, I had to endure their small talk. When I finally reach my table, I ask my father if he'd seen Anastasia.

"She was chatting with Elena a few minutes ago. They were going to stroll around the grounds in an attempt to walk off dinner," he replied before being interrupted by another person wanting to network.

Glancing over at Taylor, he tilts his head almost imperceptibly to the left. I head in that direction, meeting him at one corner of the house. He immediately hands me an earpiece, which I immediately use to listen to Anastasia's conversation with Elena.

"_I don't understand why you feel you have the right to offer me unsolicited advice on my personal life Mrs. Lincoln," Anastasia informs her. I can hear the uncomfortable tension in her voice._

"_Christian is family. I've known him since he was adopted by the Grey's," Elena replies. "A girl like yourself could never fulfill his physical needs. To him you're nothing but a quick, unfulfilling, free fuck. He's cast aside more girls like you than I have fingers. He knows a gold-digger when he sees one though in your case it might take him a little longer to see. Mark my words, he'll be kicking your mousy ass to the curb soon enough and regret the day he purchased SIP because you work there. That's your idea of career oriented, isn't it? Screwing Christian so he buys you a company. I know all about you as for the past two years Elliot has been asking Grace for advice on how to bring you out of your shell. Grace is my best friend and we laugh about how pitiful and weak you truly are."_

"_Lady, if I wanted unsolicited advice, I would have called Dr. Phil," Ana's biting remark caused Taylor to chuckle. "Here is the reality, Christian is a grown man. If he wants to have a relationship with me, it's his choice, not yours. If he doesn't want a relationship with me, it's his choice, again, not yours. His personal life, like mine, is none of your concern. I suggest you choose your words carefully, because while I may be mouse-like I also roar. I'd put my money on my inner bitch over yours any day because quiet people who've been through certain experiences like I have, put up with crap until we can't any more and I'm rapidly approaching ground zero."_

"_I made him and no two-bit slut is going to take my prize," Elena snapped. "He'll see through your innocent act soon enough, especially when he finds out Elliot said you were a lousy lay."_

_Ana laughs. "You're too funny. You are assuming I slept with Elliot, which is incorrect. I also know Elliot wouldn't tell you anything because he believes you are a creepy old hag – his words, not mine. As to your contention that you made Christian, well I know for a fact that you aren't his biological mother, so you didn't 'make' him. His intelligence and drive don't come from you. It's innate, while you are inane," Ana counters. "You would think someone of your generation would understand the meaning of the word respect. Clearly you have none for yourself or anyone else. –R-E-S-P-E-C-T - After all, Aretha killed that song back in 1967, while you were most likely in college or just out whoring around, so unlike Atlantis, the word shouldn't be shrouded in mystery for you. If it is, please remind me closer to Christmas and I'll gladly send you the latest Webster's Dictionary and a magnifying glass, as I support continued senior citizen education."_

"Holy fuck," I mutter. "Her smart mouth is hot." Taylor just appears stunned but smirking.

"_I taught him control. Without me, he'd be either dead or in jail before he turned eighteen. He'd be nothing but a statistic," Elena seethed._

_Ana laughed. "And how did you accomplish that because clearly you are here harassing me, a person you met merely an hour or so ago. Your precious self-control is flying off on your broomstick having left you behind. Hopefully your fragile hip will hold out long enough for you to leap on it when it passes by, so you can fly back to the mausoleum and your crypt keeper, if one can tolerate you. You might need more formaldehyde to keep those fake not-so-attractive fun bags over-inflated. As to Christian being nothing without you, I strongly encourage you to seek assistance for your psychosis as most teenagers lack control but find it when their bodies adjust to the hormonal changes that puberty brings. It's a simple fact of nature, so whatever you did to him, it makes you a predator of some kind. For your psychosis I suggest a regular injectable dose of Thorazine to help you skulk back from Fantasy Island and into the real world."_

"_You can't give him what he needs," Elena practically yells at her._

"_My, my Mrs. Lincoln, you are the geriatric poster vagrant for self control," Ana snickers. "Perhaps I can't give him what he needs, but again it's Christian's decision. One thing I know for certain is an ancient pterodactyl like your isn't able to satisfy his needs. You can get all the cosmetic procedures in the world to take a few years off, but the reality is you stand no chance of keeping up with a twenty-seven year old without daily B-12 shots, handcuffs to keep him still so you don't overexert yourself in the chase, and a million prayers. I'd add you would have to sell your soul, but clearly you don't have one. Oh and you'd better pray he's into leather because no amount of moisturizer is going to reverse the damage done by sun and living in a tanning bed. I imagine having sex with you would be like humping a worn, dried out, leather satchel."_

I just about lose it when I hear one of them slap the other. Hell it was like an echo because I heard it through the earpiece but not too far away from us as well.

_Ana laughs. "What's it like to be a vile human being with no redeemable qualities? I've got a clear picture of whom you are. You suck up to people like Christian, Grace and Carrick because you crave status and the power it can bring. You help people not out of the goodness of your heart, but to climb the ladder of society. It's all about you and no one or nothing else matters. I know evil incarnate when I see it. You lay one hand on me again and we'll see who wins the physical battle of the bitches. You might be taller and significantly larger than I am, but my father is a retired Marine so he taught me well and even though he told me to respect longstanding AARP members, I'd gladly make an exception in your case. So if you raise that shriveled, liver-spot covered hand to me again, I promise you that you'll regret it because I'm one mouse that you truly don't want to see roar." She pauses for a moment before giggling. "Oh, and Mrs. Lincoln, I know you are in the personal grooming profession, but a little advice, overdosing on Botox, plastic surgery, and fillers makes you look desperate and pathetic. While you are those things, you should try harder to hide it. It's a matter of understanding your limits, which clearly you don't."_

"_I'm going to fucking kill you," Elena yells at her. Next thing we hear is a struggle then the sound of a body hitting the water._

"_Remind me not to cross you," Sawyer tells Ana and there's no missing the admiration in his voice. "I wanted to be the one to shove the old bat into the Sound. I just hope the fish don't die from her toxicity."_

"_Sorry to spoil your fun Mr. Sawyer," Ana chuckled. "Right now I feel like I need a shower and a Brillo pad to scrub a layer of skin off. That woman is creepy as all hell. Thank you for having my back. It's easy to roar when you know you have back up, so I channeled my inner Kate Kavanagh and went for it. It felt good, yet wrong."_

"_Trust me when I say, it was right. If you let her walk all over you, it would be virtually impossible to regain equal footing." He paused for a moment before continuing. "That's one heck of a palm print across your cheek Miss Steele. I think it's best if we tend to it inside the house in private."_

As Taylor and I turned the corner, we came face to face with Sawyer and Anastasia. Luke was right, there's no hiding the swollen, red handprint on her cheek.

"Please get Miss Steele an ice pack Sawyer and meet us in my father's study," I order as I lead Ana into the house through the French doors followed by Taylor. I can't resist glancing back at Elena as she attempts to climb out of the water. I'll deal with her on Monday. It will be easy enough to liquidate the salons from her clutches and I know Ros will practically have multiple orgasms doing so as she despises Elena. Christmas is coming early Ros. "Taylor, have Ryan escort Mrs. Lincoln to her vehicle. Her night is officially over."

_Final score for the night: Flynn 5 – Grey 0_. Why am I not surprised?

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><p><em><strong>pinterest dot comxwingana/off-key-life**_

_**Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in updating my other stories. I had a few chapters of this one running like a movie through my mind, so until I finish getting them down in Word to soothe my obsessive side, I couldn't focus on anything else. Well the holidays too! I'll be posting another chapter of this story probably before the new year, then I'll finish off 'Mr. Grey's Wild Ride' and 'Fifty Shades of Subterfuge' followed by the next chapter of 'Fifty Shades and the Real Girl' and then getting my sorry ass moving on "The Other Mr. Grey's Wild Ride" Thank you for your patience and I hope you all had wonderful holidays!**_


	15. Chapter 15: Raw

_**Author's Notes**__**:**_

_**First and foremost, Readers and Reviewers – THANK YOU!**_

_**Second – This is a very long chapter. It didn't feel right to break it into multiple chapters. Sorry if it's too long.**_

_**Pinterest dot com/xwingana/off-key-life**_

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><p><strong>Chapter 15 - Raw<strong>

As Taylor and I lead Anastasia toward my father's home office, it's clear that the adrenaline rush from her confrontation with Elena is subsiding. We can almost see the wheels turning a mile a minute in her head as she analyses the incident. Her cheeks are quickly losing their flush, her blue eyes can't hide her growing uncertainty, and her posture, which had been defiant moments ago, shifted more toward sadness than anything else. Even though she came out ahead in her confrontation with Elena, Ana appears defeated.

"I just lost all sense of reason with that evil woman," she mumbled as she sat on the nearby couch, buried her face in her hands, and began sobbing softly. Each of her gasps for breath tugged at my heart. My past was beginning to negatively impact her life. I was stupid to believe it wouldn't. How could my fucked up existence not taint someone so pure. "I'm truly sorry I embarrassed you and your family. I don't understand why would she say those things to me. I mean she doesn't even know me, yet she firmly believes I'm bad for you and can't meet your needs. I don't understand."

"You did nothing wrong Anastasia and you are perfect just as you are," I whisper kneeling before her. After bringing her gaze to mine, I gently wipe the tears from her eyes. "Elena instigated the incident. You defended yourself admirably. If anything, I'm proud of you. Heck, even Taylor is impressed."

She wipes the tears from her eyes before glancing up at Taylor, who is standing near the closed door. My security team hates Elena. I've known this from the first time Taylor met her, so his pride-filled grin doesn't really surprise me. "I just wish I could have seen the look on her face as she went into the water," he chuckled. "It's been a long time coming. You may be quiet and shy Miss Steele, but the verbal stick you wield is unexpectedly immense. People underestimate you, but now I know better."

Sawyer entered with a cold compress in hand and passed it my way. "Mrs. Lincoln has been escorted off the premises by Ryan. I took the liberty of informing her that if she came within a hundred yards of Miss Steele we would know and there would be a price to pay."

"Thank you Luke," I reply while gently resting the compress against Anastasia's cheek and turn my attention toward her. "I'm sure you have a mountain of questions for me. I will answer them but not here. How did you get here today? I didn't see Wanda outside."

It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to cringe at the mention of her beloved Beetle. As much as I want to buy her a new car, she won't go for it. Elliot said she didn't speak to her for weeks when he offered to help her replace Wanda. It figures, I'm attracted to a girl who's emotionally attached to a damaged junk heap – how fucking appropriate. At that time, she told Elliot that Wanda runs decently and if the car were a person we wouldn't put her down if she were approaching senior citizenship. Fucking Wanda, in car years, was the veritable lost arc of _car_venant. And people say I don't have a sense of humor.

"Mia was in town this morning, so she picked me up. Ryan told me he was heading directly home after the event so I was going to catch a ride with him," she whispered. "Right now, I just want to go home, cuddle up with Ozzie and call it a night."

I can't help but feel Elliot had something to do with Mia picking Ana up today and making sure Ryan could take her home. Even though Wanda just had a massive overhaul, he still didn't really want her driving it. He thought of her as a second little sister and felt extremely protective of her. I can't help but feel grateful he didn't have romantic feelings for her.

"Come to my home at Escala," I plead.

All she can do is shake her head negatively at me, while rubbing her left hand and wrist – the Anastasia Steele sign that she's nervous or stressed. This time though, she's wringing her fingers as well. I wish I understood how she developed that mannerism.

"I understand that you want to be alone, but Elena made a significant threat against you and I'm not sure if she'll act upon it or not. We," I begin motioning to Taylor, Sawyer and myself "would feel better if we knew you were safe until we can determine how to best handle the situation. We'll pick Ozzie up along the way, with any clothes and personal items you might need to stay with me while Taylor and Sawyer coordinate the latest security system for your apartment."

Immediately I know I'm in trouble with her when she tilts her head slightly and stares into my eyes. God I could get lost forever in her cornflower blue eyes. "How did you know she made a significant threat against me and that she verbally attacked me first? Sawyer was nearby, so I know he heard but there hasn't been time for him to disclose exactly what was said."

Fuck me! Even upset she doesn't miss a thing. I imagine Taylor and Sawyer have the same frustrated feeling that I do right now. My mind drifts back to her background check – Kate might have been class valedictorian, but Ana was the salutatorian for her class. The roommates and best friends ranked first and second academically over the four years of college. My girl was highly intelligent. "How I knew, or should I say, how we knew, leads to the information I'd prefer not to discuss here. It's a conversation, once started, you will want to finish without interruption and privately."

"Copy that. I will advise Mr. Grey," I hear Taylor as he talks into the microphone in his sleeve. "Sir, Mrs. Lincoln is repeatedly circling the block in her car."

Ana stares at Taylor's sleeve for a moment. "I'm wired somehow, aren't I?" I watch as she examines the adornments on her dress. It takes her all of a few seconds to find the miniature microphone.

She's too fucking smart for her own good. I both love and hate that about her. I undo my tie and show her my matching microphone. "It's a complicated situation Anastasia," I inform her softly. "I'm going to be honest with you, I never saw tonight playing out how it did, but Flynn, Taylor, and Sawyer were dead on when it came to Elena's reaction to whatever this is between us. I didn't want to believe it, so Taylor wired both of us as a precaution, while I assigned Sawyer to watch over you this evening. If you want to know more, you'll have to come to Escala with me."

"Can I ask one question?" she asks softly. I nod uncertainly. "I want Taylor or Sawyer to answer my question," she states firmly. "Is that bitch troll a security issue for me solely because we have spent time together? What are the odds this situation will escalate? Everything about her screams predator. People like her make me sick."

"That's two questions," Sawyer teases her.

She shrugs but smiles at him, though she is still rubbing her hand. "I guess I like to push my luck."

I watch as Taylor and Sawyer exchange a glance before Taylor steps forward to respond. "It would not surprise me to see this situation escalate. I believe Mrs. Lincoln, as you put it quite eloquently to her, is out of control, perhaps even starting to lose her grip on _her_ perceived reality. Anyone who sees you both together," he continues motioning toward us "can see the connection between you. We feel it's safe to assume it's because you've been spending time together and are comfortable in each others company. As you may recall, early in the evening she didn't really have an issue with you, as she thought you were merely Elliot Grey's writing partner. Once it became apparent that there was more to your association with the younger Mr. Grey, her attitude toward you changed dramatically, causing the situation rapidly deteriorated."

All we could do is watch as Ana rose from the couch and paced the room. Her mind raced and every so often her pacing stopped, she'd focus on an object in the study before her pacing resumed. Finally, she stopped, took a deep breath and turned to face us. I couldn't quite read the look on her face. She wasn't happy, but not angry either. Maybe her surname was appropriate, as she appeared to have made a decision and her resolve was cast in steel.

"I'll agree to go to your home for tonight," she informed us. "I want straightforward, honest answers. In the spirit of a fair exchange, I will answer any questions you may have regarding my past. I know you have looked into my background, as it's what someone of your status does - has private security to ensure you aren't inadvertently associating with undesirables and people who might want to harm you. I warn you though, the first time I catch any of you in a lie or half truth, I walk and won't look back."

"Agreed," I countered. Fuck this was going to be a long, uncomfortable night. I know she means exactly what she says. This is who Ray Steele raised her to be. Would I want her any other way? Knowing her now, compared to the quiet, mousy girl who reluctantly climbed into my helicopter not that long ago, is eye opening. "Before I answer your questions though, I would like you to sign an NDA." Fuck, I should have had her sign it the moment she climbed into Charlie Tango, yet my gut, which I rely heavily on for business decisions is screaming I'm being an idiot and don't need it with her. Still, every submissive and every GEH employee, regardless of gender has signed one. It's too late now, I already asked so all I can do is brace myself for her response.

She laughs, which shocks the hell out of not just me but also Taylor and Sawyer.

"A non-disclosure agreement? Really Christian? Should I sign it in blood? Nice to see you trust me. I'll sign your ridiculous NDA but I intend to carefully read through it first just to be able to taunt you with the contents later. You realize that NDA or not, my lips are sealed."

I can't help but smile at her, while part of me is wanting those sealed lips around a certain, suddenly aroused part of my anatomy. I know she's teasing me because she's not truly surprised or offended. I adore her smart mouth. She might not have lived in my world, but somehow she's familiar in how to deal with prominent people. "I'd be upset if you didn't. Why don't you pack up your stuff from Mia's room while I let my parents know we are leaving."

She nods and heads out of the study. Sawyer follows her, which makes her laugh and call him her ginormous shadow. Once they are out of earshot, I address Taylor. "I'm assuming you have a detail following Elena."

He nods. "I moved Reynolds to take charge of the Mrs. Lincoln detail and pulled one of Welch's perimeter detail to assist him. By the time we are back at Escala, Welch will have teams covering her around the clock."

"Good. I want to know where she is at every moment of every day. Ana mentioned something earlier that bothered me about work at SIP and some people being too welcoming. Assign one or two CPOs to rifle through the personnel files of those on the same floor as Ana and see if they find anything out of the ordinary. I can't escape the feeling that someone there is making her uneasy."

"I find it odd how, according to Ryan, until recently he'd barely even heard her speak. It took Elliot a year before she agreed to meet him in person after chatting with him via instant message for a few months, followed by using Skype for the rest of that first year and writing music. She had her dad come with her the day she finally met him. She had no problems connecting with Miss Kavanagh or Mia even," he began. "She verbally annihilated Mrs. Lincoln, which if we're honest here, wasn't the reaction we expected from her. Miss Steele is highly intelligent. She also avoided providing any real information about herself to Mrs. Lincoln, but rather Miss Steele focused on mentally picking apart things she said when comparing them to what she learned about you from the interview. I can't help but feel that since she was dealing female to female, she thrived. I'm not so sure, given her past that she would have fared as well if her verbal opponent were male. I believe her WSU transcript validates that assumption, as the only time she had male professors was in classes she shared with Miss Kavanagh, otherwise they were all female."

"Is there something you aren't telling me Jason?"

He sighed sadly. "I called in a favor and accessed her electronic medical records during her time in Texas after Welch mentioned one of the neighbors remembered that Miss Steele constantly had broken bones in her left hand, wrist, arm, and even fingers. My friend found medical records under the name Anastasia Rose Lambert at various urgent care centers, the latest from a few days before her mother was attacked by Morton and hospitalized. Lambert is Miss Steele's birth name. The last urgent care alerted authorities while she was there because the x-ray showed a consistent pattern of recent fractures within the six months or so that weren't limited to her left arm, wrist, hand, and fingers, but also a recent minor skull fracture and a few cracked ribs, so they suspected abuse. The physician on shift had military experience dealing with soldiers who had been tortured. He felt her wounds were consistent with those he'd seen in the Army. Miss Steele left the urgent care before the police could arrive without having received treatment."

"So that's where her nervous tell of rubbing her left hand and wringing her fingers comes from?" I ask bitterly. My chest feels tight from anger just hearing about what she must have had to endure. I can only hope my imagination was running wild at the images I pictured – Ana as a teenager, crying, begging for him to stop as Morton hurt her. _Fuck!_

"That would be my best guess."

"So how did she get to be friends with Jose Rodriguez?" I have to ask.

"My best guess is he's a shy guy and their father's know each other from the military, so slowly over time she trusted him. Either that or she thought he was gay."

"Until he tried to fuck her in his car," I snapped.

"And she managed to handle him admirably," Taylor reminded me.

I couldn't help but smile at the memory of Rodriguez's physical discomfort a few hours after the incident when they saw him at the police station. "That she did."

On the drive to Anastasia's apartment, she's quiet, distant, and lost in her thoughts as she stares out the window of the SUV. I wish I knew what was going on in her head. Oddly, I don't think she's watching for Elena to act, which is reassuring. Of course, she could feel reassured because our SUV is right now moving between two others - with Sawyer's SUV & team leading the way with one of Welch's men, and Ryan in another vehicle behind us accompanied by a team. Personally I think it's overkill, but if it makes Ana feel secure, it's worth it.

While Ryan retrieves Ozzie from his girlfriend Kristie, I pack up Ozzie's toys, bed, and supplies while Anastasia packs hers. It took all of fifteen minutes to pack everything she'd need and get back into the SUVs. The silence between us is growing more and more uncomfortable the closer we get to Escala, and with it my confidence over how the evening was going to go begins to dwindle. I'm rapidly approaching the desire to just get it over with. I know once she sees the real me that she'd walk away and not look back. I mean, why take on my fucked up bullshit?

As the SUVs pull into the underground parking garage at Escala, Ana clips Ozzie's leash onto his collar, explaining that the first thing he'll want to do in a new place is mark his territory, which is why she insisted we bring one of his grass-filled litter boxes to put on the patio. She also brought every one of his toys and bitter apple spray because beagles are notorious for chewing on everything and anything. Coupling those items with his food, treats, shampoo, spot and stain remover, his blanket, food and water bowls, and his night-time crate made me realize that a new puppy and a human infant aren't all that different. Now I understand the minivan craze years ago and the SUV soccer mom craze today. You need the large vehicle for all their stuff.

"Ryan and Sawyer will bring everything up," I inform her as she puts Ozzie down on the parking garage floor and I lead them into the private elevator and enter the access code.

As the elevator ascends, I feel her hand on my arm. "I'm nervous," she whispers.

"Me too."

When the elevator doors open and we step into the entranceway, I can't help but glance over at her. The look on her face is a priceless combination of shock, awe, and amazement. I can relate because when Elliot walked through this apartment before any walls went up and designed it, I merely saw his vision on paper but couldn't grasp the enormity of scale until I took two steps out of the elevator.

"It's beautiful," she whispers as she steps toward some of the artwork to examine it.

After the interview, it made me look at my art purchases in a new way. I never realized how revealing these simple choices were. It was uncomfortable in one respect because it left me feeling exposed; yet when it came to Anastasia, it thrilled me that she was able to see beyond the control freak and it helped her relate to me. It helped me relax because deep down I knew she understood more about me in that moment than anyone else around me.

"You hold Madonna's with children in reverence," she said with a smile as she gazed at a few painting depicting mother's caring to their flock.

"I was four when my birth mother died. I was taken to a hospital because I was abused and malnourished. The pediatrician on call was Grace. She was dressed in white. The light gave her this glow and to me she was an angel - my angel, my savior," I whisper getting lost in the memory. "Would you like a glass of wine before we review the NDA?"

"No thank you. I think it's best if I keep a clear head," she explains as Sawyer brings the large grass-filled container out of the service elevator and heads toward the patio. She immediately picks Ozzie up and holds him to her chest. "I think it would be best if I took Ozzie out to do his business. I'd be mortified if he had an accident on the marble floors or any of the area rugs."

I lead her to the patio as the rest of their belongings were being carried into the apartment by the security team. Anastasia places Ozzie onto his little patch of grass and removes his leash. I have to hand it to her she's great with him because he immediately does his business before he goes about exploring the outdoor area. Unlike their home, my outdoor space isn't filled with plants and a garden. It never bothered me before but after spending time on her patio, this one seems sterile and lifeless. Heck, the entire apartment suddenly feels sterile – almost museum-like. Even though I've physically lived here for almost five years, it doesn't feel like it's lived in at all. Anastasia and Kate's apartment, though they've only lived there a short time, is a reflection of them – alive, full of color, books, a garden, and most of all, it feels like home, even to me and I've never truly felt home anywhere, even at Escala. It's something I need to examine more at some point with Flynn.

"Odds are he's going to mark some territory out here," she explains as she glances at a nearby garden hose. "I'll make sure I clean up after him and he doesn't damage anything. It's a beautiful patio. I love the privacy it offers. The custom patio surround leaves no space for my little guy to escape to the concrete below."

"I'll grab the NDA so you can sit out here and read it. Can I have my housekeeper Mrs. Jones bring you a cup of tea or juice?" I ask.

"Ice water?" she asks with a smile.

I nod and head inside. Gail, as expected is in the kitchen tidying up for the night. "Gail, can we have two glasses of ice water out on the patio?"

Gail Jones is always pleasant and smiling. "Certainly Mr. Grey. Would you like anything else? A snack perhaps?"

"Only if it's not too much trouble. Cheese, crackers, and grapes would be wonderful," I inform her as I head toward my office. I sit at my desk, power up my computer, and scan through my standard NDA. Nothing appears out of the ordinary or offensive on it, so I print two copies after I add Anastasia's name to it.

When I head back out to the patio with copies and pens in hand, I find Mrs. Jones introducing herself to Anastasia after she places our late night snack and drinks on the table. All I can do is stand in the door and watch their interaction. I want to experience how Anastasia interacts with a female she doesn't know. It takes them only a few seconds after the introduction to discuss recipes, Ozzie, and books. While I don't condone staff getting overly friendly with their employer or their friends, it's fascinating to watch. Anastasia didn't hesitate at all in talking to her – no shyness, no discomfort, nothing; whereas with Taylor and I in Portland she was clearly terrified and now I'm not so sure all of her apprehension was about flying in Charlie Tango.

As soon as I step onto the patio, Gail kindly states, "If you need anything else during your stay Miss Steele, please do not hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Gail. Please call me Ana," she replies with a smile. Gail glances my way for approval and I reluctantly give her a nod. More than anything I want Anastasia to be comfortable here. The only person my staff addresses by their first name is Elliot and he replies in kind. Elliot could probably meet the Pope and call him by his first name, slap him on the back in greeting, and get away with hit. He's just that type of a guy, where I'm all rules and control.

As I sit at the table with Anastasia, Taylor briefly makes an appearance with an arm full of Ozzie's toys to keep the little guy entertained. He throws them to Ozzie one by one, then retreats back into the apartment, closing the French doors behind him.

"Ready?" I ask.

She chuckles as she takes a copy of the NDA and a pen. "I am."

While she begins reading through it and making notes, I spend my time trying to teach Ozzie to play catch. He's more interested in playing tug with his Chewbacca toy, so we settle for that. I guess that's _our thing – _my guy time with Ozzie. By the time Anastasia has finished her review of the NDA, Ozzie is lying on my legs letting me rub his tummy as he begins to doze off.

When she hands me her notated copy, she takes Ozzie and sets him on the grass one more time before she returns to her seat and cuddles with him. I'm not sure if I'm impressed with her level of thoroughness in reviewing the NDA or if I should be leery. She even corrected a few grammatical errors and typos. Legal will not be happy to see me at Grey House on Monday. I turn to the blank back of a page and finding paragraphs of hand written additions as follows:

_1. Any disclosed violations to local, county, city, state, federal, or international law are not subject to the non-disclosure agreement terms._

_2. Reciprocity is applied to all terms of the non-disclosure agreement. All manual adjustments must be initialed by both parties and the final document must be signed and dated by both parties for the reciprocity clause to be active._

_3. The existence of the non-disclosure agreement can be discussed with others, but the actual terms and details of said non-disclosure agreement, excluding the exceptions, are classified unless agreed upon in writing by both parties at a later date using a mutually agreed upon binding legal document._

_4. The non-disclosure agreement is null and void in its totality upon the death of either signee._

_5. If either party violates any of the terms of the non-disclosure agreement, the document in its totality is null and void for all parties. Evidence must be provided of the violation before the document is rendered null and void by a third-party licensed law firm to be selected by both parties at the time of the incident triggering this clause._

_6. Mr. Christian Grey is authorized by Miss Anastasia Steele to discuss the contents and disclosed information with both the current Head and Assistant Head of his Personal Security, which at the time of the signing of this document are Jason Taylor and Lucas Sawyer respectively providing they have signed non-disclosure agreements with Mr. Christian Grey and agree to sign a contingency non-disclosure agreement that applies to Miss Steele that are applicable to the remainder of their natural lives. Updated non-disclosure agreements for the positions of Head and Assistant Head of Mr. Grey's Personal Security need to be updated and a caveat added to this non-disclosure agreement any time there is a staffing change for either position._

_7. The non-disclosure agreement is not applicable for discussions between either party and their respective legal counsel. At the present time, legal counsel for Mr. Christian Grey is [_] and for Miss Anastasia Steele is Mr. Barth Avery of Avery, Sloane, and Regert, Seattle Washington. Updated non-disclosure agreement caveats need to be completed in the event of a change in legal representation by either party._

"I'm impressed," I tell her, though I know the shock is clearly visible on my face.

"I'm a Virgo. We love forms, details, and nitpicking," she giggles. "We also need to add dates of birth for both of us, and if you agree to my adjustments it needs to be notarized when we sign it, otherwise it won't hold up in court if either of us contest it. I also recommend adding a signature and date area as the footer to each page, along with a notary section, so there can be no swapping out pages. While I know you won't do that to me and vice versa, if this is the generic form you are using, it will help minimize the potential of fraud in the future."

"Are you sure you don't want to come work in the legal department of GEH?"

"I hated business law class," she confesses as her cheeks flush. "It was the most difficult class I took in college. I hated the professor, so I was lucky Kate took the class with me. We both struggled to ace that class."

"While I update this in my home office, I'll have Gail show you to your bedroom. All of your things should be there with the exception of Ozzie's food and water supplies."

"Thank you for everything Christian. I appreciate your assistance. I hope I don't inconvenience you or your staff while I'm here."

"Never," I tell her sincerely as I escort her to the kitchen where Gail is wiping down the counters. "Mrs. Jones, can you show Miss Steele to her bedroom and give her a quick run through of the kitchen and where things are kept in case she awakens during the night and wants a snack."

"Certainly," she smiles.

"If you'll excuse me for a few minutes ladies," I state giving them a nod before heading into my office.

After re-reading her desired changes once again, I sit at my computer and edit the file. My gut is telling me I don't really need this document with her. She's honest, straightforward, and I know she will never do anything to intentionally harm me. The NDA is a reflex technicality at this point. It's part of how I have operated since becoming a dominant, and it's difficult to let go now because I've already mentioned it to her and we've taken it this far.

My thoughts are interrupted by a knock on my door. "Come in."

Taylor enters and informs me that Mrs. Lincoln stopped at a liquor store, purchased a bottle of Chivas Regal, before locking herself away at home. A detail is in place for the night to keep watch on her.

"Perfect. Take a look at this," I smirk and hand him Anastasia's NDA edits. There is nothing funnier than watching the shock on his face as he reads them. I imagine it is similar to mine out on the patio as I read them.

"We've underestimated Miss Steele yet again," he laughs. "If Miss Kavanagh is as smart as Miss Steele, which I believe she is, your brother must be in over his head because of her strong personality."

I can't help but laugh. "I might not care too much for her, but if it works for Elliot, then so be it. I think we're good for the night."

"Good night," Taylor states as he leaves my office and heads to the staff area.

_It's now or never_, I tell myself. As I head out of my office, Ana is descending the stairs toward me. We are both still in our formal wear, but Ozzie is nowhere in sight. "Where's Ozzie?"

"Asleep in his bed. You wore the little guy out," she smiles but I can sense her underlying anxiety.

I escort Ana to the security office, where Sawyer is on duty for the night. It takes us all of two minutes to review the edits, for us to sign and initial where required, and Sawyer to notarize the documents. When we head back into the apartment, she leaves her copy on the dining room table. I take her hand, leading her back up the steps and down the hallway toward the playroom. In my mind, it's easier to show her, and then allow her to ask questions. It's the only place I can think of to begin this conversation. It's not subtle, that much I know, but at least we'll tackle her shock head on. Once we are standing outside the locked door, I pull the key from my pocket and slip it into the lock.

"I promise you I will answer any questions you have. I'm aware I have issues, but what's behind these doors is my comfort zone," I whisper as I turn the key. "Ready?"

She nods, closes her eyes and as I open the door she takes a few steps inside while I remain in the open doorway. Normally I love the smell of citrus and leather, but right now, I feel more anxious than when I closed my first deal creating GEH. That came natural, but this relationship is pushing my control and my limits already, leaving me feeling like I'm walking on a ledge inside a volcano. Could I let the BDSM go and still feel in control? Immediately all I can think is _no fucking way_.

I watch as the color drains from her face when she sees the paddles, canes, and other harsher devices. Her breathing has quickened and I can see growing panic in her blue eyes, yet she continues looking around the room. She stops before the massive, hand-carved bed and her eyes lock instantly on the restraints attached to them and her hand immediately covers her mouth and she struggles to breathe. It takes her a few moments to compose herself enough to continue.

"What's in those?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper but I can hear the fear and dread she's striving to control.

"Toys."

"Toys?"

"Sex toys," I elaborate. "Feel free to look."

She walks over to the first dresser and opens a drawer, which I know contains an organized assortment of nipple claims, restraints, and blindfolds. She immediately closes the draw, wipes a few tears that are threatening to fall from her eyes, before releasing a nervous giggle, falling to her knees, and bursting into tears. This wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting. I anticipated she'd either run like hell out of Escala with Ozzie in her arms, or she'd faint dead away when she walked into the room. Again, she surprised me. I finally enter the playroom and head to her side. I help her back to her feet and again she does the unexpected and hugs me tightly to her as she continues sobbing. As much as I want to reflexively push her away, I want to soothe her more. I wasn't prepared for what she said when she finally stopped crying.

"That bitch did this to you, didn't she? She taught you this."

All I can do is nod.

"I think I need that drink now," she whispers and I can hear the hatred and bitterness in her voice aimed at one person and them alone – _Elena Lincoln_. It stuns me to my very core. "I might need a double."

"Same here," I inform her as we walk out of the playroom, the entire time she has one arm wrapped around my waist as her head rests against my arm.

We head to the kitchen and take a bottle of white wine from the cooler and two glasses before heading into the living room. Rather than sitting across from me, she sits at my side while I pour us wine. After our first sips, she sighs and the conversation begins.

"Do you enjoy inflicting pain on women?" she asks before downing her entire glass of wine in one shot and pouring herself another. This time she fills up the glass. "If so, why?"

What amazes me is during her question, chug, and refill, she hasn't let go of my hand and her thumb continues to softly caress the back of my hand. I don't know what to make of the signals she's sending – me, Christian Grey, a man who prides himself when it comes to reading others. All I can do is shrug and avoid her gaze.

"Let me ask a different question then. What was your birth mother like? Do you remember her well?" she asks softly.

"She was a crack whore," I snap bitterly.

"Is she the one that abused you when you were little?" she whispers but I can hear the overwrought emotion simmering beneath the surface.

"No. She neglected me and didn't protect me from her pimp," I sighed as I unbuttoned my shirt and showed her the scars on my chest. "He'd beat me, verbally degrade me, and put his cigarettes out on my chest and back."

"How old was your mother when she died?"

"Twenty-one."

She turned to face me now, cradling my face in her hands as gently as possible. Our eyes met as she said, "you realize this wasn't your fault, right? You were an innocent, pure, small child. The pimp was a demented asshole who got off on others pain, while your mother was probably too lost in her own dysfunction and hell with him to know what to do. She sounds like a very lost soul."

"She should have protected me! What loving parent doesn't protect their child?" I practically yell at her.

She caresses my cheek. "If her life growing up at home was dysfunctional, it's all she knew. For all you or I know, she did better than her own family did for her, but she must have loved you because she could have easily aborted you, but she didn't. She did the best she could, as my mother did the best she could when she had me at nineteen. It doesn't mean they did a great job, but they did try. Some parents don't even try." She sighed and stared into my eyes.

"My mom, Carla, was lost when she was young. She got pregnant by my birth father. He was the out of control son of fairly affluent parents, who was shipped off to the military to help him grow up. My mom always said they were happy together. I have no memory of Frank Lambert, my father. He died the day after I was born in a training accident. Ray, my real dad in my heart and mind, married my mother before I turned a year old. He was also a soldier. She started dating him within weeks of Frank's death. My mother is to this day a lost soul. One who needs a man to take care of her even when she doesn't love him, like Ray.

"She stayed until something better came along, but looked and dated the entire time. Even I saw that the jerk she left Ray for was trouble and I was merely a teenager back then. Stephen Morton, husband number three, was a psychopath. He enjoyed inflicting pain and terror on me. It made him feel powerful, by beating and sucking the life force out of others. My mother didn't believe me even though I knew he was abusive toward her too, though not in the same way. Ray knew and tried to stop her from taking me out of Washington. He couldn't.

"We endured six months of utter hell. Morton controlled her though violence and intimidation. Fear is a powerful motivator and when you have someone who isn't capable of taking care of herself and completely insecure, with someone evil enough to use it against her, she couldn't protect me, so she protected her own mental health by not believing he was evil. Denial is a coping mechanism for the weak-minded, so it was her best friend during that time. It was the only way for her mind to protect itself; so in some ways, maybe it wasn't a weakness. I don't know.

"He sent her out to work to support us and life after school for me was horrible. It began with verbal degradation, within a month escalated to beatings and breaking my bones for his amusement because he enjoyed the sound of the bones snapping, terrorizing me became sport for him and a few of his friends, and finally he began with sexual remarks and inappropriate touching. In one breath I was ugly and beaten for it, then he wanted to use my damaged body for his sexual amusement. The last few weeks there were for lack of a better word - _horrific_." She stopped speaking long enough to choke down the emotions that were beginning to consume her.

"In the six months in Texas, I constantly had broken fingers, hands, wrist and arm. It was always my left, never my right because I'm a right-handed person and I couldn't cook and serve him if it was damaged. The night he beat my mother almost to death, she'd lost her job for drinking, as her normal coping mechanism of denial wasn't strong enough to prevent the fucked up emotions from spilling over the levy walls in her mind."

She stopped, wiped tears from her eyes, chugged her second glass of wine and continued. It was heart breaking to watch and listen yet strangely captivating. It was clear she was attempting to detach herself emotionally from the memories, yet I couldn't help but feel part of her didn't want to. It was almost as if by being strong she was telling Morton to fuck himself.

"When she could no longer fight back, he came after me, blaming me for him having to kill her because of my disobedience. My mother was dead because of me. That's all I knew at that moment in time. I'd never felt terror and heartbreak like that. He took his sweet time and used a hammer to break every finger in multiple places, multiple bones in my hand, my wrist and my arm. Again, always my left side suffered the damage. Death was too good for me because the nightmare wasn't ever going to be over. That's all I could think as he continued getting off on my fear. He broke my ribs with a section of copper pipe, and then screamed at me that copper was valuable and I shouldn't make him damage it with my worthless body. He then hit me twice with it in the head. I was dazed, barely conscious when I felt him begin to tear my clothes off. I panicked through the haze and somehow managed to use the discarded copper pipe to hit him in the junk repeatedly until he passed out briefly. I managed to get to my feet, call the police, and ran. A neighbor helped me get away.

"They helped me contact Ray that same day. They took me to get some medical attention, though out of fear of being found by Morton, I left when the doctors at the urgent care called the police. I was afraid they'd give custody of me to him until Ray showed up. I knew if they did, I'd be raped and murdered within the hour. Our neighbor's family hid me a few towns over. Ray showed up and told me my mom was not dead, but in the hospital in bad shape. Morton was arrested. It took him a few weeks but he made bail a few days before mom was released from the hospital. We had orders of protection against him that weren't worth the paper they were written on. Little did we know, he had a plan for us.

"When the situation finally exploded in the hospital lobby, mom and Ray were shot by Morton as we were held hostage. The police snipers took Morton down with three shots after almost a dozen hours of pure hell. As he bled out, he promised me he'd come back for me without the limits of physical form the moment I found any sense of happiness and he'd make me watch him destroy everyone and everything I cared about before he finally killed me. He promised me his buddies would be watching me ready to take what I denied them – their abuse and future fuck toy – me.

"After that, my mom completely cracked. With Morton dead, she signed custody of me over to Ray and walked away. For the first time in my life, I had one hundred percent stability because I was with Ray and not living in fear that she would leave him and drag me with her. She said she gave up custody because she was jealous of Morton's attentions toward me and for a long time I believed her, but Bob, her latest husband called me one night and told me the truth because he wanted her and I to reconnect. She felt guilty about being a shitty mother.

"And me, well, the damage was done, so once bitten, twice shy, but I did call her. I haven't seen her since Texas. I don't know Bob well enough to trust him. I have major trust issues when it comes to men in general as you can imagine, but it gets ridiculous when it comes to people my mom dates. She's been married four times and Ray was the only decent one that I saw. Ray, my dad, is just amazing. When she cheated on him, it was with scummy people, so her choices were downright shitty. I'm not a gambler, but the odds were against Bob being anything like Ray. I'm enough of a mess without adding her and her life choices into the mix, even though a big part of me wants to. She's my mother and I do love her, but some things are difficult to forget. You know?"

I nod.

"Emotionally I'm a mess. The damage was done in Texas. I was always timid and insecure. If I were born today, my mother would have put me in stupid pageants and crap like that. Hell, she'd sell her soul put me on reality TV if I was a kid now. When I was little she wanted me to be her meal ticket to a glamorous life, so it was singing, dance, and instrument lessons growing up. I was always a shy, cautious, self-conscious child. My mother is gorgeous and growing up in that shadow left me insecure and withdrawn, so I escaped into my books and writing as soon as I could read and write. Texas shattered me the rest of the way.

"Intellectually, I know what happened wasn't my fault. Just like the way you were treated wasn't your fault, but having those lessons drilled into your head, hell into your soul as part and parcel to your entire self-esteem as pure, true fact makes them difficult to overcome. I've always been a straight A student, yet in my mind that wasn't good enough – _I wasn't good enough_. Not a day went by where Ray didn't make sure I knew I was good enough and he loved me. Yet it was difficult to hear, much less believe.

"After Texas, other than school, homework, reading, and writing, I shut everyone out except for Ray. I felt unworthy of the things people took for granted, but more than that, I didn't trust my own choices. Fear of being like my mother and making bad decisions really screwed with my head, so I didn't date, didn't talk to guys or pretty much people in general, and just existed in my own little, safe, self-made bubble. If I didn't feel anything, then I couldn't be hurt. I can tell you now that it's screwed up logic, because I hurt more in other ways. I lived isolated, in fear, reading about friendship, love, and exotic places in books and know I'd never experience any of them. I was torturing myself through my love of books. I was really fucked up."

She laughs wryly. "Then I met Kate _Steamroller_ Kavanagh, who didn't just demolish my bubble, but verbally bitch slapped me with the truth. God I love her, yet there are days I want to choke her." She giggles again, but her eyes are glassy, yet bright when she thinks of her best friend. "She helped me more than you would ever know. Jose Rodriguez was someone I've known on and off through the years as casual acquaintances. When our fathers reconnected at parent orientation night at WSU, I slowly allowed Jose into my new fragile friendship bubble, which at that time consisted of just the Kate and the fragment of a real person I still was. Ethan, Kate's brother slowly set foot into the new expanded bubble and again, it wasn't too difficult because I trusted Kate and to a certain degree transferred some of that trust to Ethan."

"And Elliot?" I ask.

She laughed heartily. "Gosh, at first he was a pain in the ass. I couldn't get rid of him online. Emails, IMs were a constant thing. Over time he wore me down. Kate looked into him for me first and she thought he was a hottie and seemed like an okay guy, so we began talking on Skype and writing some music together. By the end of the first year, my dad checked him out, confronted him, approved of him, and we met. I'm sure you know the rest of my friendship with the big teddy bear. You know, the kind of bear you see at Costco that make Andre the Giant appear small?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"You've never been to Costco?"

I shake my head negatively.

She giggles and takes my phone from next to me and searches the Internet for a picture of the bear. When she shows me the picture of a full-grown guy holding one, the fucking this is huge. It does vaguely remind me of Elliot, just without his perpetual state of penile erection when a pretty girl it's nearby. It's like a fucking compass pointing toward pussy rather than due north.

"Costco is a warehouse super store, where you buy stuff in bulk," she explains. "Kate used to leave there every time with massive packs of batteries. I never understood why until she slept in my room one weekend while hers was being redecorated and I was in Montesano. When I came back, I found a buzzing sex toy under my pillow. It was horrifying."

I couldn't help it, I laughed. I would have sold my soul to see her face when she found it. "Miss Steele, are you a prude?"

She blushed profusely. "Well excuse me, I've read about sex in books. I mean all kinds of sex. Kate loved to try to shock me with some filthy novels. I was always drawn to the characters."

"The characters, right?" I tease her.

"Okay, so the sex seemed interesting too."

She was now the color of cranberry sauce and completely adorable.

"I just didn't think I would ever trust someone enough to allow myself to be so vulnerable and I didn't deserve happiness. That little insecure, fucked up voice in my head constantly reminded me of his words," she whispered. "Logically I knew that voice was completely wrong, yet between Texas and Kate, it had been my only friend. I trusted the voice inspired by those six fear-filled months more than logic. It's a tough thing to get passed. I realized during the interview how wrong that voice truly was, because I felt connected to you, like I hadn't felt with anyone before. I trusted you and there was no doubt about that. I felt vulnerable after that but at the same time it was absolutely the best feeling ever. Just the thought of you and I smiled like a Cheshire cat."

"And I'm fifty shades of fucked up," I sigh apologetically. "I care about you, but I've struggled with the idea of us. I want there to be an us, but someone as fucked up as I am will destroy you emotionally and probably physically. This sexual lifestyle is all I know. It works for me. I need control."

"What happened to me wasn't deserved, just like what happened to you wasn't deserved." I could hear the passion in her voice as it grew stronger. "No child deserves that type of treatment. Children love unconditionally, so I have no doubt part of you loved your birth mother and another part of you is angry at yourself for not being able to save her, but you were a small child. It wasn't your job and you didn't have the ability to do so. You were the most helpless person in that dysfunctional situation."

"Intellectually I know that. I really do, but I can't silence the voice," I mumble before downing my wine. "I didn't talk for two years after my adoption. I was a lost, damaged little kid who couldn't communicate, lived in fear of the recurring night terrors, and afraid to be touched because the only touch I knew was painful. By the time I was a teenager, I was heading down my birth mother's path – out of control, self-medicating with alcohol, and heading toward drugs. I fought because it was the only way I could be touched. I was either going to overdose or kill myself."

"So that is why you practice BDSM? So you are in control of any potential touch situation?"

I nod. "It's so much more complicated than that."

"Is it really?" she asked quietly. "How old were you when that Lincoln woman got her hands on you?"

I hesitate, downing another glass of wine without savoring it. "Fifteen. She beat me into submission when I misbehaved and rewarded me with sex. I allowed her to run my life. I needed it. She took control and then taught me how to take control of myself."

"Bull shit! What you needed was to forgive yourself for crap you were mentally berating yourself with for years and wasn't your fault. I know what it feels like to not believe you deserve happiness, but again – bull shit. We deserve happiness. I hate that little voice inside my head. Every day I struggle with it until it's a muted whisper that I can tell to screw off."

She gets up and begins pacing the room. "You didn't do anything wrong. This Lincoln woman, your mother's best friend if I'm not mistaken, used your mother as her own private Internet to learn to manipulate you for her own fucked up whims. How long did it go on?"

"Until I was twenty-one and she taught me to become a dominant," I inform her. At this point I can't look her in the eyes. Long buried emotions are paralyzing me.

"When you hit women in your playroom, I'm assuming it consensual because I know you Christian, you're not the type of go pick up women on the street to beat and screw. You're too private for that," she states and waits for me to respond. I nod. "How did you find these women?"

"Through Elena."

"So she still controls you. She provides fuck buddies and you in turn provide her with backing for her salons."

I nod.

"Don't you see?" she asks. All I can do is sit there in shock. "She's still dominating you, but under the guise of helping you. You may dominate some women that she choses for you and she allows you to think you've chosen them, but in the end, she's the dominant and you're her submissive income stream. In the six or so years that she's provided you with submissives, how many have you contracted?"

"Fifteen."

"What were they like?"

I can't answer that question because I know she'd put two and two together, and then leave me.

"They looked like me, didn't they?"

I nod and she downs a third glass of wine.

"Is that what you want from me? Submission? To beat me and believe you are punishing her when you do it? I mean, okay, so you beat them because you're mad at her, so why screw them? I'm a virgin, so honestly I don't get it. I mean, it is Oedipal or at that point it's just pent up tension release? I'm attempting to understand."

Her voice is oddly calm yet those blue eyes are stormy, confused, and reveal her fear.

"I don't know what I want from you. All I know is I'm attracted to you. I never felt attracted to my submissives," I stammer. "This is different. The thought of hurting you is abhorrent but it's all I know."

"Grace put my clothes in your old bedroom. I changed there, not in Mia's room. There was a small picture in there of a young woman who shared some of my physical characteristics – long dark brown hair, light eyes, pale skin – was she your birth mother?"

I nod as I run my fingers through my hair. My life is spiraling out of control.

"So the anger you felt at your submissives was really aimed at your birth mother but they were your outlet," she states flatly. I nod. "You need to forgive her and move on Christian. Without doing that you'll never be able to trust someone enough to have a real intimate relationship. I know, I've been in your mindset until quite recently. You're the only person I've trusted with my secrets. This was a huge step for me. I feel raw and vulnerable, yet safe."

I feel her coming toward me, even though my face is buried in my hands as I struggle to suppress my emotions. Her fingers gently run through my hair before she pulls me face from my hands and our eyes meet. She softly pushes me so my back is now leaning against the back of the couch. Never taking her hands from my hair, she straddles my lap and brings her forehead against mine. Reflexively my arms wrap around her waist. When she begins to speak in a soft, yet husky whisper, I can't pull my eyes from her blue ones.

"Imagine your teenage years and all of that anger and aggression aimed at your birth mother. Feel it, live it, own it," she whispers in my ear.

I can feel my entire body tense and my grip on her tightens significantly, yet her body remains relaxed. She trusts me.

"I know you won't hurt me Christian. I have no doubt about that. You control these dark emotions. They are yours to do with as you please. You can ram them back down your throat and allow them to slowly destroy the only innocent party if the travesty that were your first four years of life, or you can give the pimp a big fuck you, and let them go. You don't need to dominate women. You need to dominate the overwhelming emotions coursing through you but in a healthy way. Give that asshole a big fuck you every morning. It's part of my morning routine and yes it does help. Every morning, I flip off the asshole roasting like a proverbial marshmallow in hell, I read a few inspirational or humorous quotes until I calm down, and then my day really starts because underneath the after effects of the shit storm that engulfed my life over the years, I need those five to ten minutes of rebellion and inspiration to be the person I was meant to be and not the fucked up mess _he_ wanted me to be. It was difficult at first, but every day it gets just a hint easier. It's a long road, some turns are loaded with self-doubt, but so worth the journey."

"I don't know if I can do this."

"_Anger, fear, aggression – the dark side of the Force are they_, to quote a great _Jedi Master_," she chuckles as she does a terrible impression of Yoda from Star Wars. "The first steps are always the most difficult. You have to cast off this self-loathing because you aren't seeing yourself as others see you. You're a great, philanthropic man Christian. Expensive suits and the mask you wear at work don't hide that. Yes, like me, you're screwed up in some ways, but the real you beneath that layer of dysfunction is absolutely amazing. Your family sees it, your security and GEH teams see it, but the only one who can't see it is you. Self-respect and true self-awareness can't be bought for any amount of money. You've taken all the actions showing you have both, but not allowing yourself to accept this pretty much universally accepted fact is sad because you truly are a spectacular person."

I feel raw, split open and on display, yet with Anastasia I feel safe. I can't help but smile shyly at her. "What did I do to deserve you?"

She laughs. "You allowed your goodness to help Elliot by flying my sorry ass to Seattle on a moments notice. You love your brother enough to help him, and he knows you'll be there for him. Now give me back your phone Mr. Grey."

As I pull it from my pocket and hand it to her I ask why.

She grins as she fiddles with my phone. "Patience is a virtue."

I watch as she focuses on the phone, clicking buttons along the way. In under a minute, she climbs off my legs, cuddles under my arm and hands me back the phone.

"Every morning I go onto _Pinterest_ and read quotes. I've followed a ton of people's boards that post quotes and funny memes. I know you are a busy man, so I've shared my _Pinterest_ board to your phone using my account, so you can read what I read. We can start our day together that way."

The first quote I see makes me chuckle. It's ironic. _Learn to let things go that you cannot control._

"It's apropos, I know," she giggles. "I really love this one: _The only person you should try to be better than is the person you were yesterday."_

"I like this one too," she continues. _Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about un-becoming everything that isn't really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place."_

The next one has me laughing and looking at her through new eyes, _The quiet ones are always the kinkiest. _"Oh Anastasia, care to explain that one, oh quiet one until today? Or this one, _Lead me not into temptation, oh who am I kidding! Follow me. I know a short cut."_

She's blushing profusely now and it's wonderful. "Okay, so I found some of the erotic books Kate threw my way arousing. I may be a virgin, but I'm open to new experiences as long as they don't include abuse or losing who I am. More than anything I trust the person."

I grin mischievously at her. "And do you trust me?"

"I wouldn't have spent any time alone with you if I didn't."

"I'm a work trying to take its first steps toward progress," I mutter.

"Aren't we all?" she whispers as she moves up and kisses the tip of my nose. "We can take this journey together and see where it takes us."

"I would like that more than you can possibly imagine, but I don't know if I can let my lifestyle go."

"You deserve to be truly happy Christian. It must be quite lonely having no one to share your intimate thoughts or to just relax with after a stressful day at work. I know lonely all too well. It sucks. Slowly it will drive you mad."

I can't help but close my eyes. It's almost painful that she's cut through my emotional defenses and is making her way to my darkest fears. That little defensive voice in my mind is growing louder with it's chant of _you will destroy her – you don't deserve her – you're like Morton, you'll suck the life out of her leaving an empty damaged shell. It will be your fault. You don't have enough self-control to prevent her darkness from smothering her innocence. Just like your mother. It's your fault._

"I can't," I snap at her as I get to my feet and move away from her. I can't stop myself from running my fingers through my hair in panic and frustration. I can't keep the emotions out of my voice even though I can see my reaction shocked her. "I don't deserve you. I'm toxic, like Morton was. I'm not a good person, no matter what you naively believe. What happened to me was because I deserved it. You need to understand. I'm not like you. I'm dangerous to someone as innocent and naïve as you are."

My harsh, emotional, reaction threw her off-balance. We stared at each other and in her eyes I saw a glimmer of fear and self-doubt. Her posture changed, shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and her head tilted downward a fraction. She appeared lost, almost disoriented, as she tried to rein in her thoughts and emotions. It took a few moments and another glass of chugged wine before she finally spoke again. "By that logic, then everything that happened to me was deserved and it's what I should expect out of life. Thank you."

"No!" I shouted before grabbing her shoulders and pulling her from the couch. I didn't mean to shake her, but I did quite forcefully. "You don't fucking understand. Fuck! You have this romantic notion that we are the same and that you can save me, but I'm not worth saving. Don't you get it?"

"They say what's good for the goose is good for the gander. Thank you for making that perfectly clear," she whispered sadly as she pulled my grip from her shoulders so forcefully, she falls back onto the couch. "Maybe Morton was right. I am the fucked up one and I deserved to be treated like that. The bitch troll is smarter than she looks. I can't fulfill your needs, ironic given Texas. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to grab Ozzie, head home, and drink myself into a coma."

She gets up, sways a bit, and then quickly pushes past me, heading up the steps. I can see tears, hurt, confusion and disappointment in her moist blue eyes. The sight of her climbing the steps stops me in my tracks. She won't leave, will she? I grab my phone and text Taylor and Sawyer that Miss Steele might be leaving and will need a ride home and security.

When I see her carefully coming down the steps with her large overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Ozzie in one hand, and with her other holds up the bottom of her blue gown so she doesn't trip over it, she sways as she heads toward the elevator. Her pale skin was already showing signs of bruising where I grabbed her. _I'm no better than Morton. I hurt her. Fuck! _ That's all I could think over and over. After she pushes the button, Taylor arrives from the staff apartment with a look of confusion on his face, while Sawyer emerges from the security office.

"Miss Steele," Taylor begins. "Allow Sawyer to drive you wherever you would like to go. I would feel better, given the Lincoln situation, if a member of the security team could watch over you until it is resolved."

"The situation is resolved Taylor," she sighs. "Mrs. Lincoln is correct, I won't meet his needs. Please feel free to give her a call and tell her she wins. I'm certain that will end any potential threat against me. Now if you will excuse me, I'm walking the four and a half blocks home without security."

She keeps hitting the button to summon the elevator as if it can't get here fast enough. Finally the doors open, she steps in, and begins pushing a button repeatedly. Taylor enters the elevator as the doors are closing. The last thing I see are her moist eyes glaring at Taylor.

"Service elevator now Sawyer," I order as I walk toward the secondary lift. He follows quietly. I need to make sure she gets home without issue.

The lift door opens as Taylor steps out of Escala, following a few paces behind Anastasia. He's clearly unhappy at her refusal of a ride. Sawyer doesn't appear thrilled that I follow them out the front door, remaining half a block behind Taylor. Right now I don't give a shit about security protocol. All I can do is watch my girl, distraught and half-drunk walking the streets of Seattle in an elegant blue dress, her shoulders shaking as she cries, looking like a shattered angel who couldn't pass a field sobriety test if her life depended on it. _I did this. I caused this. This is all on me. She's strong, yet fragile because her inner strength was still settling on its foundation. My self-loathing and stubbornness shattered it in an instant. I broke her_.

When she finally reaches the front door of her building, her hands are shaking to the point where she is unable to get the key into the lock. Sawyer and I stand half a block away watching while Taylor takes the key from her, hands her a handkerchief, before putting the key in the lock and opening the door for her. They stand there talking. Well, truth be told, Taylor is talking to her and she's just shaking her head negatively at him. Whatever he said next, caused her to cry harder, but she allowed him into the building and again, Sawyer and I waited.

It took almost an hour for Taylor to emerge from the condo. He didn't look happy as he approached us, but by the time he stood before me, his impassive game face was back on.

"I walked through the apartment and the terrace – all clear. The superintendent wasn't thrilled when I woke him up, but the penthouse is now locked off by key via elevator. The only copies of the key are currently with Miss Steele. No one can get up there without either a key or a code and at this point, only Miss Steele and Ryan know the code. Ryan is going to bring her other belongings back from Escala tomorrow morning," he informed us.

"What about additional security?" I ask in frustration.

"She refused. Ryan agreed to keep an eye on her."

I can tell by the look on Taylor's face, he wanted to say more. "Just say it Taylor."

He stared at me uncomfortably for a split second, before responding. "Miss Steele raided Miss Kavanagh's liquor cabinet as I was leaving. She stuck a crazy straw into a fifth of Tequila and started drinking."

"Fuck!" I mutter as I turn and start walking back toward Escala with Taylor on one side of me, and Sawyer on the other. _This is my fucking fault._

Arriving back at Escala, I dismiss Taylor for the night. I order Sawyer to change into workout gear, since he's on duty tonight, while I go and change into my work out gear. I'm accustomed to kickboxing with Taylor. Sawyer should be challenging, as he's taller, younger, and more muscular that Taylor, and from what I've seen, more agile. Yet when Sawyer is suited up, his size doesn't feel so imposing, but here in the gym, he looks down at me like I'm an ant, though our height difference is about four or five inches.

We spend two hours sparing in the gym and it was pretty much two hours of me being pounded into submission. It was fitting. At first Sawyer was hesitant and held back. All it took was me yelling at him and a few good jabs for him to let loose. He had good technique, fast reflexes, and didn't hesitate to get in my face, where Taylor always seemed to hold back. I made a mental note to work out more with Sawyer when I was angry as he kept me moving and on my toes or back as it were, the entire time without a break.

After a quick shower, physically and mentally I'm exhausted and I practically crawl into bed at three a.m. I expected to lie there, stare at the ceiling and let my mind run wild with the crap I through at Anastasia because of my own fucked-upness, but amazingly I don't.

I know I must be dreaming when I find myself back on the couch with Anastasia. I know she left and I followed her home, but I'm back on the couch. Fuck! Why do I have to relive this? Once was bad enough. Fuck! Yet in my dream, there I am, trapped in my self-made nightmare on the couch next to the woman I love. I love her. Can I really love her? Fuck!

"_Anger, fear, aggression – the dark side of the Force are they, to quote a great Jedi Master," she chuckles as she does a terrible impression of Yoda from Star Wars. "The first steps are always the most difficult. You have to cast off this self-loathing because you aren't seeing yourself as others see you. You're a great, philanthropic man Christian. Expensive suits and the mask you wear at work don't hide that. Yes, like me, you're screwed up in some ways, but the real you beneath that layer of dysfunction is absolutely amazing. Your family sees it, your security and GEH teams see it, but the only one who can't see it is you. Self-respect and true self-awareness can't be bought for any amount of money. You've taken all the actions showing you have both, but not allowing yourself to accept this pretty much universally accepted fact is sad because you truly are a spectacular person."_

_I feel raw, split open and on display, yet with Anastasia I feel safe. I can't help but smile shyly at her. "What did I do to deserve you?"_

_She laughs. "You allowed your goodness to help Elliot by flying my sorry ass to Seattle on a moments notice. You love your brother enough to help him, and he knows you'll be there for him. Now give me back your phone Mr. Grey."_

_As I pull it from my pocket and hand it to her I ask why._

_She grins as she fiddles with my phone. "Patience is a virtue." _

_I watch as she focuses on the phone, clicking buttons along the way. In under a minute, she climbs off my legs, cuddles under my arm and hands me back the phone._

"_Every morning I go onto Pinterest and read quotes. I've followed a ton of people's boards that post quotes and funny memes. I know you are a busy man, so I've shared my Pinterest board to your phone using my account, so you can read what I read. We can start our day together that way."_

_The first quote I see makes me chuckle. It's ironic. 'Learn to let things go that you cannot control.'_

"_It's apropos, I know," she giggles. "I really love this one: 'The only person you should try to be better than is the person you were yesterday.'"_

"_I like this one too," she continues. "'Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about un-becoming everything that isn't really you so you can be who you were meant to be in the first place.'"_

_The next one has me laughing and looking at her through new eyes, 'The quiet ones are always the kinkiest'. "Oh Anastasia, care to explain that one, oh quiet one until today? Or this one, Lead me not into temptation, oh who am I kidding! Follow me. I know a short cut."_

_She's blushing profusely now and it's wonderful. I feel lighthearted and free with her. There's no GEH, no past, just us in our own little bubble. "Okay, so I found some of the erotic books Kate threw my way arousing. I may be a virgin, but I'm open to new experiences as long as they don't include abuse or losing who I am. More than anything I trust the person."_

_I grin mischievously at her. "And do you trust me?"_

"_I wouldn't have spent any time alone with you if I didn't."_

"_I'm a work trying to take its first steps toward progress," I mutter._

"_Aren't we all?" she whispers as she moves up and kisses the tip of my nose. "We can take this journey together and see where it takes us."_

"_Together," I whisper before my lips meet hers. I can't resist pushing her back onto the couch molding my body to hers._

_She pulls her lips from mine, while still running her fingers though my hair and tugging it lightly. I don't think I've ever been this turned on by a simple action. "Where are the no touch zones?"_

"_Back and chest," I reply as my mood begins to fade. I feel like I'm failing her by not allowing her to touch me there._

_She smiles mischievously and her next question floors me. "So that luscious back side of yours if squeezable then?"_

"_So is the front side baby," I laugh, relaxing again before kissing her. "If you feel adventurous you can feel or kiss your way there as the shoulders, arms and anything below the waist are all yours." I can't help but smile down at her._

_If you'd told me a week ago that shy little Anastasia Steele would be lying under me having wonderfully erotic thoughts as her fingers gently worked their way toward my back side, as she called it, I'd have bet a million dollars you were delusional. I would have lost that bet and been happy about it._

"_If you keep smiling at me like that Mr. Grey, I'm going to combust on your couch," she whispers. "Get rid of the pain inducing items in your game room and who knows, we can slowly work our way up to going in there. We can both have some new experience once we are comfortable with each other enough physically."_

_I kiss her deeply. "You're going to have to give me a list of the books Kate gave you, so I can plot and plan."_

_She laughs. "Our first trip in there is going to be about the connection we have and we're both going to surrender to it. Be prepared to kick the staff out all weekend when it happens and lock down the elevator so no one can interrupt."_

"_You are a horny and kinky little thing Miss Steele," I chuckle as I lightly kiss my way down her soft neck and shoulder blade before making a path toward her breasts._

"_I have four years of pent up frustration reading those books," she sighs with an embarrassed smirk. "Kate wanted to buy me a vibrator for my birthday our first year as roommates because she said I was sexually frustrated. I just about died when she said it, but deep down I wish she had bought it. So now, rather than Costco's mega batches of batteries, I'm going to have to release my sexual frustration with you when I'm finally ready to drop that v-card, as Kate calls it."_

"_I wouldn't have it any other way," I whispered. "I'm not the most patient man, but for you, anything."_

"_Anything?" she asks smirking up at me._

_I nod._

"_So tell me, why did you buy SIP?" she asked as she nibbled on my ear lobe. Fuck, my cock is like granite now. If she does that again, I'll explode._

"_To make sure you were treated fairly and were well protected of course," I smirked. "I've known since the interview that you were going to be mine. I just didn't know the when."_

_She laughs at me. "So that makes this luscious back side mine along with the rest of you then?"_

"_All yours baby, all yours," I whisper as I grind my hips against hers, causing us both to groan lightly._

"_A certain massive and sturdy part of you seems quite happy to be here right now," she giggles as I grind against her again, while massaging her erect nipples through her dress. I almost cum in my pants as her eyes close, her head tilts back and a soft moan escapes those pouty lips. Her breathing is coming in raging gasps as my teeth lightly tease one of her nipples and my fingers match the motion of the other. All I know is even if I can't feel her wrapped around me now I want her first orgasm permanently etched into my mind._

"_Oh Anastasia," I laugh as her hips come up to meet my next grinding motion "we may not fully consummate this relationship tonight or even soon, but we're going to have one hell a time getting acquainted with each other's anatomy and I intend to be an A plus student." I grind into her again as I kiss her passionately. Her fingers tighten in my hair pulling me closer to her. Her lips part slightly, and the kiss deepens. Her legs reflexively wrap around me practically begging me to continue rocking my hips against hers. When my fingers return to massage her breasts, I can feel her hips grinding against mine with reckless abandon. "Tell me what you want," I ask as I stop all motions and gaze down at her dazed eyes. Her pupils are larger than I've ever seen them; she's breathless; and her cheeks are flush with arousal._

"_I want to feel your skin against mine," she barely manages to whisper. "I want to learn to please you because based on the past few minutes, you are the maestro and I'm your Stradivarius. I've never wanted anything more than I want you right now."_

"_Are you really ready?" I ask anxiously. All I want is to be inside her so I can feel and hear her cum around me._

_She nods and our eyes meet. "This is us – raw, open, no secrets. Okay, maybe just one secret."_

"_You have a secret?"_

_She nods and grins broadly. "The day after the interview, I went to the doctor and got the birth control shot. It's been over a week, so –_

"_You're ready to take your hot little body on its first test drive."_

"_Zoom zoom," she giggles. _

_That sexy giggle gets me every time. It makes me feel like I'm going to combust. I'll be lucky to make it to the bedroom with her. Rising from the couch, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder – caveman style. She giggles again. Fuck that kills me, but my attention is pulled away when I feel her arms, which had been dangling behind me, reach around and begin to undo my belt as I head toward the bedroom. Before I can even get there, she's unbuttoning my pants, and lowering the zipper. Shit!_

"_Oh Anastasia, you are playing with fire."_

_That fucking sexy giggle alone can send me over the edge. I feel her soft hands slide under the waist of my pants sending a jolt of arousal through every cell of my body. When she reaches further down and squeeze my cheeks, she laughs before pinching me. "Mine," she sighs. "All mine!"_

_As I carry her through the bedroom door, I set her on her unsteady feet and lock the door behind me. She sways slightly. Her cheeks are flushed; her lips puffy and ready; and her eyes are filled with desire. "I'm in charge of this party Anastasia," I inform her. "You are mine."_

_When I look around the room, we're not in my bedroom, but the playroom. I panic, hoping to wake up but I can't. I'm not longer in my tux, but my playroom jeans and shirtless. I feel myself rip the blue dress from her body, leaving her standing before me in a matching set of revealing beige bra and panties. The desire is gone from her eyes, replaced by fear – no terror._

_I can't control my actions as I roughly pull her toward the thick, dark leather bench and force her face first over it as she begins to panic and struggle against my hold. I cuff each of her hands to one of the bench legs and her struggle increases when I grab one of her legs, pulling it toward a waiting restraint. Once bound, I take her other leg and bind it to the far leg, leaving her exposed and vulnerable._

_Panic like I've never felt consumes me. I can't stop my actions. I can't control what my body is doing to her. My mind is screaming for me to stop, but I can't – no control, I don't have control. It's like an out of body experience, but with a secondary point of view from my body's vantage point. I'm completely helpless as my body walks to one side of the room and grabs a cane. _

'_No! Fucking no!' my brain is screaming to no effect. _

_The only sounds in the room are her uncontrolled, fear-filled sobs. Try as she might, her struggles against the restraints are futile, yet she doesn't give up. _

_I feel myself raise the cane in preparation for the first strike. I can feel the muscles in my body but can't control them. There is no restraint in them as the cane bears down on her barely clad body._

"NO!" I wake up screaming in my bed. My body drenched with sweat. My heart racing as I gasp for air. It was a nightmare – a fucking nightmare reminding me that I'm going to slowly destroy the one person I love more than anything in the world.

* * *

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_**Updated 1/10/2015**_


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